Monsters, Ayleids and Deities: The Journey Begins
by IvernessianWriter
Summary: Aderyn is the last in his family – the Aneureyns. His tale is that of one in personal discovery: a journey across the country of Cyrodiil, battling evil creatures, and ultimately saving those whom he holds nearest to him.
1. A Seafarer's Concern

Leaning over the port bow of the Storm Chaser, misty sea foam sprayed upon his face, and the morning air filled his lungs. The distant sun, his focal point at the moment, reminded him of home on the eastern shores of Morrowind – how the sun rose beyond the horizon, greeting the day with warmth and comfort. Though, this sun appeared brighter, felt hotter, and made everything stickier. Sweat formed across his brow, dripping down his nose and into his mouth, bitter and salty. At least it helped to cool him down.

He had just left Summerset Isles not quite two days before and already he could see the mainland of Cyrodiil, his destination. The Gold Coast, home of Anvil, and providing the largest port in Cyrodiil, all were too quickly coming into view. Red shingled crowns, it seemed, peeked above the great stone walls – the homes and workshops of men and women alike. Yet, dreary and loathsome did he first glance over the city. He couldn't fight back the emptiness trying to fill his heart.

His grandmother, the only remaining family to him, had just passed away. Originally living in Anvil, she wished to be buried in the family crypt, housing her forefathers in the bowels of Gweden Farm – the home of the blessed – outside of town, and his birthright passed down to him from his grandmother. He vowed to honor her dying wish and do as such, then would move in and eventually settle in for good. Still, he could not help but feel that her death came by other means than that of a natural ailment.

"Aderyn," came the austere voice of the captain, stirring him from the reverie, "get your lazy arse over here!" His fair skin glistened in the sunlight, and almost seemed too bright for Aderyn's eyes. The captain, a hulking Nord – Roamstorm was his sea name as he always said – required Aderyn's assistance in docking the ship. Only a handful of men dotted the upper deck, mostly Redguard mercenaries hired to help defend the ship from pirates, and the few others, swaggering Nord sailors like Roamstorm. And, after several harsh commands shouted to the group by Roamstorm, the Storm Chaser moored in Anvil.

"You know, Romiskeld…" Aderyn started only to be cut off by the Nord.

"Bah! I hate that name!" Roamstorm or Romiskeld – his birth given name – blared in retaliation to the hideous moniker, as so he thought.

"Fine… Roamstorm" Aderyn mocked, smiled, and then nudged the grouchy sailor.

Roamstorm faked a smile, slightly glared while giving his attention to Aderyn, and growled in a half joking, half serious tone (more serious than joking though), "Yeah, wuddya want?"

"Well, I was going to say that you need to lighten up. We're not out at sea anymore. Relax. There's nothing left to be tense about." Roamstorm only glared slightly more, but Aderyn knew it was not directed at him as Roamstorm looked off into the distance, obviously deep in thought about something else.

"It's not the sea that I'm worried about, Aderyn" he said, finally breaking the silence. "We're on land now and other events plague my mind. It's…" gulping loudly, he drew in a deep breath, "it's my wife."

Aderyn couldn't help but burst into laughter at his initial thought. "Vigdis? Why, is she too tough for you?"

"Of course not!" Roamstorm growled, just thinking about that possibility made him angrier.

"Then what's wrong with Vigdis? She isn't seeing someone else, is she?" Aderyn looked at him in earnest, hoping to the gods that she was staying true to Roamstorm. Contrary to the hefty appearance that would surely lean you towards believing that he had no sensitive side to him, the tender Nord wouldn't be able to bear such a loss.

"No, that isn't it either. It's just…" the Nord sighed; lowering his gaze, obviously embarrassed about his feelings, hiding them had never done him any good except when out at sea – away from all other troubles. "She's so concerned about everything lately. She always talks to me as if I'm a child, you know?" Aderyn looked at him somewhat confused. Roamstorm sighed again. "She tells me how to run my ship… I'm the sailor for crying out loud! And then when I come home later than expected she automatically assumes _me_ to be having an affair!"

"Well, have you asked her if there is anything going on? Why she is having these thoughts?"

"No, not exactly." Aderyn shook his head at the reply. "Every time I've tried she just stormed off, upset with me. Maybe it hasn't helped that I have been away for six months, eh?" Roamstorm leaned against the hull of the ship; they had both walked down to the docks and halted at the front of Storm Chaser.

Aderyn placed a hand on his shoulder and offered, "Maybe I can pay her a visit? See how she is…" Aderyn trailed off, knowing the fury of a Nord woman. Roamstorm nodded his head in appreciation, thanking the mer for risking his own hide in light of Vigdis' heightened moods. The two had been friends ever since they were only children and helped each other out whenever possible – Aderyn always stated this when Roamstorm found his way into trouble – jokingly instigating him into trying to, at least once, avoid it. Though, the thought of an angered Nord woman made his hairs stand on end.

--

The inner halls of the Fighters Guild accommodate many brave and talented souls – the prided warriors taking up the cause to better the land of Cyrodiil. Of course, they require modest donations – particularly in the form of monetary value. Still, their cause benefited all. Though, in recent times work had been all but scarce.

The head of the Anvil chapter, Azzan, a swarthy Redguard and an excellent fighter, stood in the doorway blocking Aderyn from coming in. With a glowering stare he peered forward into the pale blue eyes of the mer. To anyone else the locked gazes would have sent shivers down the spine of even the most stalwart warrior. But to these two men it was all about competition.

Minutes went by and still no sign of breaking could be seen on either's face. That is until a small butterfly landed on the tip of Aderyn's nose. Trying his best not to give in, a small smirk had formed on Aderyn's lip, causing him to bite down harder on his lip to keep himself steady. Yet, fortunately for him, the amusing sight sent Azzan into a laughing fit where Aderyn immediately followed.

"Oh! My friend, it is good to see you." Azzan embraced the mer in a large man to man bear hug. "It's been far too long!"

"Seven years to the day" gasped Aderyn, trying to escape the firm hold of Azzan. Only after had he been put down was he able to breathe. "If it were only on better circumstances, my friend."

Azzan heard about the recent loss of the respectable family member. "I'm sorry for your loss, Aderyn. Aldrina was a good woman to the end."

"Don't be sorry. She lived a great life. And, had she not fallen to the illness so soon, she would have told you just the same if she were here." Aderyn tried to keep himself from losing control of his emotions. Sometimes he wished for a way to control them entirely. Such is the existence of mortals.

"Gods bless you, Aderyn, for your determination in life. But it's good to let your emotions flow freely sometimes."

After several somewhat awkward moments, Aderyn finally broke the silence. "Where is Vigdis? I need to speak with her."

"S-She's at home." Aderyn sensed there was a little more to be told by the way Azzan avoided the question at first. He prodded for a little more information. "Look, Aderyn…" Azzan sighed, "If you want the whole story you'll have to talk to Vigdis." He then muttered under his breath something semi-audible, "Or at least _see_ her."

"What do you mean?" Aderyn narrowed his stare, almost glaring to instigate a further explanation. But Azzan would answer no more than, "Go see for yourself."

As he walked along the cobblestone path, Aderyn pondered what could be going on with Vigdis. Furthermore he wondered how he could gather any information for Roamstorm. But what he saw of Vigids revealed the truth behind her worrying over Roamstorm and the constant anger displayed to him – a fear on her part of being left alone in life, with life still to take care for.


	2. Unmitigated Surprise

"She's what?" Roamstorm nearly fell out of his chair at the Flowing Bowl tavern, the sudden news overwhelmed him. His face lit up like that of a thousand burning fires, yet a hopeful fire building inside of him, the news being the oxygen instigating it to burn brighter and hotter.

"Yep, I saw her with my own eyes." Aderyn displayed with his hands, stretching them out over his stomach.

"Did she say anything to you? How is she doing? Is the primate of the Chapel there to help?" Roamstorm had so many questions. It seemed only natural, but still hadn't completely sunk in that he was soon to be something greater than just Roamstorm the sailor.

"She said that she wished to see you!" After Aderyn repeated it for the third time Roamstorm's eyes widened a little, unsure if he should. It had all come to him so suddenly, and he wasn't exactly sure if he was ready for such advancement in life. How would he act? How would he treat his wife from this day forward? Would he be kind or tyrannical? Thankfully for him Aderyn was there to talk him through it all.

"Are you sure she said that?" Roamstorm whispered, unsure if he even wanted to know the answer.

"Yes!" Aderyn stated, frustration bordering the edge of his mind. He understood the sudden shock from news of this magnitude, but what else could Roamstorm do _but_ go and see her. Running away certainly wasn't an option, they both agreed on that.

"Listen, Romiskeld…" the Nord hissed at the name. Aderyn only reiterated the necessity of his first name, proper and dignified from now on. Romiskeld loathingly agreed, thinking of his new title matching with that of a sailor. He even managed to smile, only a small bit, but it was at least an improvement on his current condition.

"Anyways, you'll do fine. I'm sure you'll be a natural. One of the best in the land!" They both smiled together, conversing more about the recent events. But soon Romiskeld thought it best to finally appear before his wife and take ownership of his doing – with joy, though, gilding his steps.

--

Merriment flittered about in the air, stained by the scent of alcohol – the atmosphere of the Flowing Bowl tavern excited and joyful. Beer and mead slung about by the excited men found its way to nearly every corner of the tavern. Maenlorn, a Bosmer and proprietor of the Flowing Bowl, scurried about, agitated, trying to calm the ruckus. There was nothing for his smaller physique to do, however, than let the men go about their excitement and leave when they had finished. Romiskeld, the most joyful man in sight, stood up from his table to spread the announcement to all – the awaited news that would tell everyone of his recent discovery.

"Gents, friends, and all of you other scallywags who call yourself seamen!" All sailors cheered, more or less confused at his last choice in wording – slurring it slightly – but knowing he meant well as he was simply 'in the moment'. "I bring great news from my wife." Cheering burst out again. "And it is with great joy that I bring it to you. We are now, as of not too long ago, parents to a handsome baby boy, Thormoor!"

Ecstatically ending the announcement Romiskeld ordered another round of beer and mead be brought to the tables for his fellow shipmates. Aderyn calmly sat in the back, watching as the Nordic men took swig after swig of the vile drinks. Politely he asked for wine instead, not quite fond of any other drink Maenlorn served. Still, he remained in the tavern to cheer and support his old friend.

The hour grew late, and still the men showed no sign of leaving. Maenlorn, curried by the rude beings hoarding his drinks, pattered about as the constant yelling for him to hurry motivated him to move along. Threats broke out saying they would turn him into nice little totem outside of his establishment – tied up and naked. Harassed enough he shouted above the voices and ordered for them all to leave at once before he called the local authorities. Aderyn, knowing full well the frustration of the exhausted Wood Elf, chided Romiskeld to wrap up the party and head home – guiding him there of course, for he was far too drunk to make it there on his own steam; which, right now, felt a pleasant buzzing in the back of the Nord's mind, but would soon morph into a monstrous headache before the sun arose.

Tossing the Bosmer a hefty payment for the destruction aroused by his comrades, Aderyn thanked him for being patient. Maenlorn graciously accepted the sum, and then promptly went about reorganizing the mess. Foul minded and ill-tempered, Romiskeld resented in being thrown out so soon. He still wished to taste mead run down his throat, the appeasing sensation it gave to him, relieving his mind of any other frustration. Aderyn, however, knew better than to let the Nord get too carried away. Already had his friend drained several bottles of liquor and would be in no fine mood come morning should he continue.

Secunda and Masser, natures natural light in the cool, sunless atmosphere, brightly illuminated the heavens with their grace. Grateful for the serenities of night, Aderyn threw Romiskeld's arm over his shoulder, supporting the beefy weight of his friend, and continued on into town, passing the rows of houses little by little as he carried the Nord home. All was peaceful: the chirping of crickets off in the distance, the gentle breeze of wind rushing past them, even the soft pitter patter of their feet against the cobblestone path as they continued on. At least it was peaceful till they reach Romiskeld's house.

Dumania Jirich, the female Primate of Chapel Anvil, awaited Romiskeld's return. Though, seeing him in such an inebriated state sent her into a condescending temperament – spouting curses from the gods down upon his head for being so foolish. Aderyn excused the inappropriate state, claiming it to be his fault for letting the Nord get out of control. She dismissed after showering them with several more wrathful words, heading back to the chapel to atone for her foul tongue. Aderyn chuckled as she left, watching as she cursed herself for her irritability at the situation.

Once inside, he laid Romiskeld upon the bed next to Vigdis who only smiled at her husband, proud of the man he was becoming. With a loving hand she stroked her fingers through his wavy blonde locks. Aderyn noticed the child lying in his crib at the foot of the bed – small and calm – well, small for a Nord baby, but large for any other child besides and Orc's. Still, he gazed over Thormoor, noticing an odd birthmark over the child's brow. It was familiar to him – similar in shape to a three but somewhat jagged. Gingerly he caressed the forehead of Thormoor, feeling the child's smooth surface beneath his fingertips and the faint pulsation under the skin, and traced the birthmark along its path.

"Dumania claims it's an omen" Vigdis said, watching as Aderyn looked over her child.

"What?" Aderyn looked to her confused.

"His birthmark." She rose from her bed and walked over to the crib. Just as Aderyn had she too traced the lines. "But she's not sure if the sign proves helpful or a hindrance." Together they gazed over the child, watching as his chest rose and sank in rhythm to his breathing.

--

Back at the Flowing Bowl, Aderyn sat against the far wall, pondering the child's birthmark. Rubbing a hand across his forehead he remembered his own sign, the same as he witnessed on Thormoor, though now completely faded. His thoughts were interrupted, however, as two females, one Imperial and the other Nord, walked up to him. Fumbling with a ring on his left hand, he noticed they handled themselves rather provocatively. He felt his heartbeat quicken, his inner heat rising.

"Why hello there" spoke the Imperial, her voice soft and inviting. "Signy here wants to ask you something. I'm sure a handsome man such as yourself wouldn't want to refuse the offer we have for you." She slowly rubbed a hand up his leg, nearing far too close to his… pride.

The voluptuous Nord female, offering sight of far too much cleavage, leaned over him. Sweat began trickling down his neck, heated from the unexpected visit. Her voice, while not as clean spoken as the Imperial females, was still pleasant in tone.

"You poor thing, you're all alone," she began, coursing one of her hands through his hair long, jet-black hair. Normally he wouldn't have allowed such an invasion of his personal space be violated, especially in such a manner as this. But he hadn't experienced the comforts of intimacy, such as they offered him, in many years, making it extremely difficult to resist the welcoming temptation. And slowly he found himself slipping into the realm of desire. Her soothing words, hinting to sexual acts as she mentioned a "night of fun", sent him past the edge of caution and into wanting his mortal cravings fulfilled.

Though, all sensations halted as she motioned for him to meet them at their house – _HIS_ house – at Gweden Farm. Defiled by sexual acts, he loathed their words now, infuriated in how a place of blessedness could be changed into an unholy whorehouse. The final resting place of his past family rested in the bowels of the establishment, and only the gods knew if their spirits' were stirring in retaliation. Trying his best to hide the rising emotions, the anger building inside of him stuffed back down for later use, he pretended to still be enjoying their company.

Tomorrow, past eleven at night, he was to meet them there for a pleasurable evening. Indeed he would, but not with pleasure on his mind – only retribution for their tarnishing his home. He somewhat wished to greet them with hellfire now, but a small voice in the recesses of his mind stayed his angered thoughts – rebuking him for their murderous intentions. He remembered now back to his devotion to Stendarr – the god of Mercy. He would have to reconsider his plans for revenge, and instead bring justice to the defiled home the way his practice should show.


	3. The Sirens' Deception

Quietly conversing Romiskeld's experience in helping to birth his only son, he and Aderyn sat off to one side of the Count's Arms Inn, table arrangements specially provided by Wilbur – innkeeper, wine merchant, and furthermore manager of the establishment in the western sector of town. It is said that there are few others in Cyrodiil who know more about wine than he, those few entrepreneurs residing in Skingrad – wine capital of the land. Even so, Wilbur's knowledge surpasses that of any other in the many varieties of wine.

"Is there anything I can get you two gentlemen?" Wilbur took pride in the quality of his establishment. People would constantly compliment on his services – the way he treated his customers always generated a sense of being taken care of, intensifying their disposition towards him and overall bringing about their want to return.

"No thanks, Wilbur. We're fine." Aderyn smiled at the Redguard, appreciative of Anvil's incomparable merchants who strived for excellence in their stores. Long had Wilbur owned the Count's Arms, and long had he served every race – exceptionally more when they tipped well, as had Aderyn every time he dined at the inn. Most proprietors seemed rushed to get into your coin purse and then get you out so more customers could come in. Anvil seemed an exception to Aderyn – thankful his family decided to settle within the region of, in his opinion, the city containing the highest decorum in all of Cyrodiil.

Continuing their discussion, Romiskeld explained the birth, every event that happened – even the nauseating feeling he received when witnessing the masses of blood and goop spilling out of his wife whilst she, the one in pain, remained levelheaded. Aderyn chuckled, picturing Romiskeld growing green with queasiness while Vigdis and Dumania walked _him_ through the processes of breathing in and out to control his sickness. And for over an hour they talked about this when finally they came to the discussion of Aderyn's home at Gweden Farm.

Remembering the events of last night brought up the unexpected anger Aderyn had felt – knowing the whole while his murderous intent a contradictor to his teachings. Audibly cursing himself for the weakness in mind, Romiskeld inquired about the events. And after a lengthy discussion of the women's provocative wiles he relayed to Romiskeld that their secret "hideout", or whatever they called it, was holed up in Gweden Farm – intruded and polluted.

"I'm to meet them there tonight at eleven." Romiskeld sat in silence, pondering what course of action should be taken to be rid the "Deceptive Sirens" he so named them. While the humane thing to do would be to simply call the guardsmen and have them arrested for their criminal act, an unexpected anger washed over Romiskeld – he too wished bloodshed could be brought to right the overly perverted wrong. Yet, as Aderyn displayed to him the importance of remaining calm, the teachings of the Nine would blatantly refuse such a hasty decision and right out curse them in being so cruel.

"Then what do you expect we do?" Romiskeld awaited his response, well thought out and planned to perfection as always Aderyn had something stored in mind.

"Well, I've been thinking about a way to trap them in revealing their true intentions. I doubt women of their nature would simply want a "night of fun", as they so strongly stated, without receiving something in return. But I can't seem to place my finger on what it is." For several minutes they sat in silence, trying to come up with something to give them an edge over the deceptive women.

Thank the Nines for eavesdroppers. A Redguard female, plainly stating she "overheard their discussion", knew of the problem they faced and its complications. Apparently, her husband Gogan somehow became entangled in this predicament as well. Though, his foolishness cost them her father's wedding ring – a family heirloom passed down many generations to the eldest male in wedlock. She pleaded with them to prod Gogan in revealing the women's intentions, and so they agreed, thanking the Nines once again.

--

Gogan, an arrogant man, eventually revealed, after many attempts nearly ending in bribery, the truth about the all-female gang of thieves holed up in Gweden Farm. After cursing his wife's flapping tongue, Gogan told Aderyn and Romiskeld they came to him, provoking him into joining them for one evening. "I'm only human" he stated.

Disgusted with the seemingly unremorseful weakness, especially in being married, Aderyn chided him into staying true to his wife from now on. Still, he understood the emotions flowing through the man, having witnessed them firsthand the night before.

"Now, there are three of them" Gogan explained, the situation within more dangerous than Aderyn anticipated. "An Imperial, a Nord, and a Khajiit." Aderyn hadn't known of the Khajiit, thinking perhaps she might be there to unleash a trap upon every hapless man beguiled by the other two women. Gogan described what they had done to him, duping him into removing his sword and clothing, only to be ambushed by the three. Having to walk back home with only the undergarments covering his backside, thankfully concealing his genitalia, obviously sent his wife into a flurry of anger when he returned.

Again, Aderyn rebuked him for the foolishness displayed. "Will you stop with the criticism already? Look, I messed up." Gogan put his hands to his head and began to weep, finally showing the regret behind his words. "Please, I'm begging you. Just help me rectify this wrong and get the ring back, won't you?" Despite not feeling one ounce of pity for the man, the two men agreed and would confront the preying sirens come this evening.

Still, a plan must be formed in case the women started off with violence. Romiskeld interjected, having received a divine plan to safely secure the women without displayed acts of malice on either part. Remembering Aderyn's unique training back in Summerset Isles, he would use the magician's abilities to their advantage.


	4. Reclaiming Gweden Farm

Nighttime slowly encroached, shedding its darkened blanket over the Gold Coast – Aderyn and Romiskeld, a bulky pack of nine different pairs of clothing strapped to his back, used the darkness' cover to safely traverse their way towards Gweden Farm. Though, hoping their plan would work relied solely upon Aderyn's gifted magicka. The pressure for success straining in his mind, aided by an enthralling presence of concern for his ancestors' spirits – angered spirits in general were the last thing on his list to encounter – set him slightly on edge.

"Breathe" Romiskeld constantly reminded him. Urging him to stay calm, to not think about the consternation of failure, only assisted in worsening the anxiety – his mind relentlessly contemplating the results of a worst case scenario. To help, Aderyn repeatedly reassured himself, 'I_ can do this. The plan is a shoo-in. Nothing will go wrong.'_

At last, after what seemed no less than an hour, Gweden Farm loomed before them – figuratively speaking. In spite of its single leveled appearance, knowing what witchery went on inside gave the farm a menacing look. That and perhaps the unkempt flora towering about the house, drooping over like vicious claws ready to snatch up their next victim.

"Before going in there," Romiskeld started, a gleeful look in his eye, "just remember – the plan greatly resembles that of our troublesome childhood years – we being the troublesome children of course." They chuckled, remembering their childhood together, using the magic Aderyn had learned to greatly confuse the town guards. "It's just on a larger scale" Romiskeld said, particularly pointing to himself.

"Right." Aderyn started off in the house's direction, casting the appropriate spell that would potentially save their skin. Though, a hand held him in place, and Romiskeld's voice echoed out, reminding him one last time, "breathe".

--

Dark wooden walls, accented by cherry red linens strategically draped over them, reminded Aderyn of his younger years spent in town. His grandmother, Aldrina, the kindest woman he ever knew, was more like a mother to him. After his parents passed from the realm of Nirn, their death a tragic murder back in Morrowind, she brought him into her home. He was too young to remember the ordeal, only being two years in age, and didn't even remember them except from stories told by Aldrina.

Even so, every time he visited their tombstones in the crypts beneath he felt he had known them his entire life. But now he wasn't even sure their bodies remained. For all Aderyn knew their graves could be desecrated, their unearthly spirits released back into Nirn to exact revenge.

Startled by a sudden tap to his shoulder, Aderyn quickly spun around, looking Faustina Cartia, the imperial woman, directly in the eye – her name etched onto a golden amulet dangling from her neck. A fine red gown, vexingly draped over her rosy, slender body, gave the appearance of being ready for a "fun night".

"You're here early" her delicate voice rang throughout the depths of his male-confused mind – steadily growing hazy and unsure. Shaking his head, trying to relieve the misty cloud forming in his mind, he realized what she was doing. A charm spell trickled up and down his spine, increasing in strength as her voice grew softer and more inviting.

Using his own magic, Aderyn silently repelled the enchantment with a spell of his own – _Resist Temptation_, a spell crafted by him during his studies back in the Summerset Isles. Pretending to appear entranced, Aderyn played along as she continued speaking, not wanting to give her the appearance that she had failed in enticing him.

"Oh, you look like you're ready." She pulled him closer to the bed, bordering the edge of the southern wall. "Let's relieve you of those clothes, shall we?" If now was the time to unleash his plan, it certainly appeared as a gilded opportunity the closer they inched towards the bed.

"No" he calmly stated.

"What? Come on. Don't be shy. I thought you wanted a bit of fun?" She pulled at his shirt, lifting it upwards and nearly relieving him of it. Quickly he jerked away and glared at her. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I've not come here to experience your wiles, Faustina." Furiously, she glared at him – her nostrils beating wider and wider as she realized her spells had failed. Steadily she backed up to a doorway leading down to the basement where the other two remained in wait.

"Ok, girls" she cried, only to be muted by a powerful silence spell thrown her way. Grasping her throat, unable to speak, she turned to pound on the door – her hand, however, frozen in place right before it. Glancing around, only her eyes seemed to be moving, she watched from the corner of her eye as Aderyn walked into view, a grimace forming on his face.

Unaware of what had befallen their companion, Signy and the Khajiit, Tsarrina, burst into the room, daggers drawn. A hard thump from behind frightened them and, turning around to see Faustina collide with the wooden floor, they rushed towards the mer, their blades wailing about. Easily had Aderyn avoided their daggers, leading them towards the front door and eventually outside.

Once beyond the threshold of the house and well out into the field, Aderyn sent the signal for Romiskeld – all ten of him – to appear. For the spell he cast before entering the house, a temporary duplicating spell, conjured up nine other forms of the Nord, each garbed in a different outfit to give the appearance they were all different men.

Terrified beyond compare, the two women dropped their weapons, surrendering to the men surrounding them on all sides – graciously offering their wrists in submission, preferable over offering their heads at knifepoint. And once their wrists were bound, Mealona and Gogan, garbed in guard's uniforms of Anvil, thanked the men – all of them – and took the three prisoners off to serve their time. Chuckling over the terrified faces of the two women, Romiskeld and Aderyn accepted the amount of gold offered to them by the guards and went inside to investigate the remaining house – gathering all stolen items, returning them to their respective owners when the sun once again arose.


	5. The Bowels of Gweden Farm

Deep, dark, dank. Unheard, untouched, unseen. It had been nearly eight years since Aderyn had last been down there, and the mere sight of it sent a flutter of memories back into his mind – memories he had forgotten when he last stepped foot back outside of Gweden Farm. Memories he had wanted to never again experience – a past pain so great it drove him out of there just upon witnessing the depressing surroundings of the crypt. He thought he might have healed from it by now, but he only realized, instead of healing from it, he simply stuffed the pain down, afraid to confront the truth of the situation.

* * *

_The crystalline glimmer, cast from overhead by the shining sun, sparkled upon their faces – reflections of a romantic afternoon off the shores of the Niben Bay. Aderyn and his wife, her darkened skin and radiant red eyes – his sense of comfort in her outshining that of any other intimacy he'd ever known –basking on the shores. Today was the day they'd create a new life._

_Swimming in the shimmering lake, passing the time with a perfect afternoon, the two danced about in the water – breathless and yet oxygenated lungs filled with a magical air – Aderyn's magicka supplying them with hours of excitement as he cast water breathing spells over them. Tolmera Velsa, her burning desire, along with Aderyn's, greatly impacted their will to remain lovers until the end of time._

_Their perfect afternoon, however, would end in tragedy – a painful event that would, as well, haunt Aderyn until the end of time. His love for her, endless, would be severed in this realm, but in spirit, would never forget her._

_The last time they swam out to the middle of the lake, taunting each other to go deeper and deeper down to its lowest depths, was the last time Aderyn had seen her. As Tolmera dared him to finally go down to touch the bottom, she tasked him to claim for her a pearl from one of the many oysters lining the lake's bottom. He did as she asked, wanting nothing less than to please his wife, to witness her smile brought about by his humble acts of love._

_Swimming to the depths, scouring the bottoms, he found for her, after several minutes of searching, a flawless pearl – milky white and of the highest in quality he had ever perceived. His discovery, however, intruded by a flash of white light beaming from the surface. Hastily he swam to its surface, concerned for the safety of his wife. Though, as he reached the top Tolmera was nowhere to be found – mysteriously vanishing with the blinding flash._

_For six months Aderyn visited the lakes, searching the waters for her body, denying that she could just have "disappeared" as everyone claimed. A dull hope, still feeling her presence whenever he visited the lake, as if her spirit was somehow linked with that same spot, lingered about in his. Always refusing to let go, he'd visit that spot for yet another six months, after erecting a tombstone for her back at Gweden Farm, empty._

* * *

Aldrina, her golden skin still shining even in the depths of the crypt, finally lay to rest next to her only daughter, Eldea, Aderyn's mother. Between his mother's and wife's, a reserved spot between two of the most important women in his life – the one from whom he received birth, and the other whom he would have created life through – Aderyn prayed a blessing upon all three souls that they rest in peace. Remaining in the crypt far after the tomb had been sealed around his grandmother's body – hardening to protect her remains from intruders – he wept as he said one last fair well, releasing the last of his sorrow.

As he walked back outside, Gweden Farm behind him, and the city of Anvil before, he would keep the house sealed up, a magical barrier placed by him to preserve the remains of his parents, grandparents, and many more of his lineage through his mother's side. And now heading forward, the past behind him and the future before, he returned to Anvil. However, he needed a home, and so rented from Romiskeld and Vigdis until he could find a place of his own.

One fine day, as Aderyn and Romiskeld dined over at the Count's Arms, they discussed the topics of the past week. Particularly of the stories spread around about Thormoor's birthmark.

"Some say the birthmark, the birth sign the Ritual, is an ill omen." Romiskeld chuckled over the ridiculous rumors spreading around. "I haven't had a more prosperous time since the birth of my boy!" A wide grin, beaming with enthusiasm, spread from cheek to cheek on the Nord's face. His sailors, prospering in their trades and bringing in high amounts of revenue from their voyages, had even never seemed happier. They praised Romiskeld, his son of good fortune they claimed.

"Even so, Romiskeld" Aderyn's lips not quite as cheerful as his, "you must remain cautious. The few people born with that sign, a rare sign indeed, have had nothing but bad luck. At first the times seem prosperous, but then the tides turn, storms arise, and ill-times shower them."

Romiskeld much disliked the attitude Aderyn displayed, beginning to raise his voice. "What are you saying, Aderyn?" The mer shrugged, his blue eyes locked with that of Romiskeld's wrathful emerald greens. "Our child will be a curse to us? Is that what you're saying?"

"Of course not! But you must trust me." Aderyn dropped in tone, motioning for the Nord to do the same as well. "I was too born with this sign. At birth the sign brightly marked my skin, quickly fading as I advanced in age. But now, only misfortune has seemed to befall me – I, the last of the Aneureyns."

"It's all just a bunch of hocus pocus!" The Nord growled. "You shouldn't believe such lies! Our son will not become a curse, and don't you speak such things into existence."

A shrill shriek disrupted their argument and Vigdis burst in through the front door a moment later, white as a ghost, distraught by a terrible situation befallen them. "Thormoor is missing! He's been kidnapped!"

Romiskeld spun around, a furious glare threatening Aderyn for speaking about such things – cursing them with wicked tales. Aderyn stood up, silently apologizing, but not remorseful for his words – they were not the cause of the event. He did, however, feel somewhat ashamed for causing the anger to rise in Romiskeld, and would help in whatever way he could to find their missing child. A terrible and terrifying quest now lay before him – he, however, would have to work quickly – time was of the essence, and not a moment could be idly spent.


	6. Haunting Uncovered

As with every good investigation, questions are one of the most important factors in discovering the truth. However, the peoples participating in your interviews may not always agree to answer without a favor granted on their part. Greasing palms, as beggars oftentimes referred to it as, and normally being prime sources of information going on throughout the city, seemed a somewhat effective, if not rather expensive, route to take in acquiring information. Though, most attempts at gathering said knowledge simply left Aderyn high and dry – devoid of any further advancement in his search for the missing child.

Mostly, the knowledge passed onto him depicted the child was cursed and simply vanished due to supernatural presences. Unsettled by rumors quickly spreading around of such unjustifiable claims only made Aderyn consider their possibilities – though only long enough for him to deem them foolish, pushing them to the farthest parts of his mind. Yet, a couple apparently decent leads pointed him in the direction of the docks towards an Altmer female mage, and evidently possessor of great wisdom on paranormal activities – the fallacious stories seeming all the more possible.

The day was hot, midday's sun basking overhead for an unnatural amount of time, its ill-timed arrival playing on the nerves of every sailor hunting along the docks for their cooled rescuer – shade. Though, the remaining workmen left behind, out to roast under its rays, irritable and unfavorable to any other being at the time. Their only goal for the time being to survive the barrage of heat waves washing over the Gold Coast.

"What puts you in such high spirits, Nord?" Aderyn inquired at the cheerful sight of Wilhelm the Worm, Nord vagabond, an always seemingly optimistic person. But right now the only cheerful person in sight and the only person worth questioning.

"How could I not be?" Wilhelm replied back.

"Answering a question with a question, pauper?"

"That I am, sir!" A cheesy grin plastered on the ugly mug of Wilhelm's face revealed he had either received some great news or had received a bar of soap and enough money to finally start a decent living. Neither, unfortunately, were shared with Aderyn as of yet – the beggar's stench particularly offensive. "The countess has just granted me housing in the Harborside Warehouse just yesterday. As long as I keep rats out of the storage I can use it for my home."

"Then perhaps, in living here at the docks, you can answer me a question? Someone's location." Aderyn grew weary from both the constant burning sun overhead and running around trying to find some sort of information concerning Thormoor.

"Of course! Anything you ask, I'll do my best to answer."

--

The Serpents Wake, a said to be haunted ship, carried on her top deck his appointed informant – Varulae. Her haughty expression, the only necessary indicator to prove that she was indeed a mage, helped Aderyn to quickly identify her amidst the other female High Elves patrolling the southern docks. A silky red dress, accented by subtle purple embroidery woven into the wrists and collar, along with golden thread sewn intermittently throughout the gown, gave her the appearance of high class. Her simplistic hairstyle, however – combed back to mask its frivoled character – gave the manifestation of troubled times. Undeniably she witnessed some terrible situation, her brown eyes and sockets puffy and sagging from lack of sleep.

"Varulae?" She turned around to witness the younger mer walk up to her, though a look of confusion on her face. That same investigative stare Aderyn received when meeting someone new, someone with knowledge on mer culture and customs – in particular another mer he'd never before acquainted.

"Half Altmer – on your mother's side, I see. And the other half… Dunmer – your father a brave man." Taken aback by the sudden invasion into his past shocked him; however, intriguing him as to how she knew.

"Judging by your confusion," she critically looked over him, then resumed a mentoring expression, "I foresee you are wondering how I know such things?" He nodded. "First of all, your eyes are blue but skin dark. When a Dunmer and Altmer mix blood, their offspring's eyes and skin tone are represented based upon the sex of the two. Golden skin with red eyes when the father is Altmer and mother Dunmer, but dark skin and your mother's eyes when the father is Dunmer and the mother an Altmer."

"Have you known many mixes?"

"Only a few, but never have I personally met one such as yourself. Dunmer males tend to be far pickier in their choice of women than Altmer males." Aderyn agreed. Personally, he found the darker skin and red eyes of his father's bloodlines far more attractive than that of his mother's. Still, he had seen many beautiful High Elf women in his time.

"Well, why is it that you have come to me, master Dultmer?" That was the first time he ever considered what exactly he was. A mix of Dunmer and Altmer, using his father's lineage as the base for his race – a Dultmer? He found it rather intriguing. "What do you need?" Varulae reiterated with a hint of annoyance in her voice, breaking him from the reverie.

"Oh, I have come to you with questions – questions of great importance. I've been told you'd know where to look." The two locked gazes, the Altmer almost knowing what knowledge he sought.

"Follow me" she motioned for him to proceed into the top level of the ship – a haunted presence growing on their minds.

--

The Serpents Wake – rumors of its disturbing origin true – a haunted vessel infested with the spirits of past accompaniers. Varulae informed Aderyn of its dreaded truth, the history behind it, starting with her voyage to Summerset Isles to retrieve a family heirloom. The crew she hired, however, mysteriously died while there, haunting the depths of the ship – still guarding the heirloom deep within. She required his assistance with acquiring the ancient relic of her ancestry, stating it would certainly aid in his investigation.

Aderyn knew the precautions he must take, dealing with the undead a dangerous mission. His fears of them, however, would have to be dealt with while here.

* * *

_His thirteenth birthday, and the day of his first summoning, a great day in all Dunmer societies. Today was to be the day he conjured up his first Ancestral Ghost – the guardians of all Dunmer people should they summon the spirit from its grave. Aldrina, in being an Altmer, had limited knowledge on this aspect of Dunmeris culture, but knew the complications of conjuring – a similar enough task._

_Despite that only half Dunmer DNA filled his blood, Aderyn's ancestral guardian would work just the same. The act of it, however, proved a more challenging task than either had anticipated. Mispronouncing the appropriate words would cause the summoning to either fail or leave you out of control of the ghost._

_Aderyn, focusing hard on the necessary words, infusing his trained Magicka with the words of power, granted him his first guardian ghost – at first pallid flesh, dangling from its only two arm-like appendages, gave the air of friendliness, but quickly began to transform into a darkened figure._

_While the actual summoning went well, the ability to control the apparition, due from the lack of training unknown of on Aldrina's part, started to go awry. Aderyn's magicka, draining from him and into the ghost, unstoppable, filled the ghost with power. With little else to do but combat the being, Aldrina used her own magicka to burn the ghost – fire the most powerful elemental against ghosts and other beings of undead potential._

_The event, however, left Aderyn scarred. His fear of losing control once again filled him with fear of undead beings – never again, he promised, would he deal with them or their ilk._

* * *

But now, Aderyn's promise to himself would have to be severed. A new vow to deal with death – or undeath for that matter – his promise to find Thormoor motivated him along to discover the truth. Romiskeld would never forgive him should he turn back now. So into the depths of the Serpents Wake did Aderyn proceed, his heart pounding, the pulsating sound ringing in his ears. Blood rushed to his head, a sense of being lightheaded, only needing to push down his fears to overcome them for the better of all.

One problem stood in his way, or should we say obstacle barred his path. The years of death pervading the bowels, rotting away as they scoured the depths for food, always hungry but never satisfied. These things, the multitude of them greatly increased over the years as Varulae hired new hands to fetch her heirloom, massed within the ship. An overwhelming scent suffused the air with the toxic stench of rotting corpses – a stomach convulsion waiting to happen. Still, he pressed on, combating his way past the spirits and into the bowels, the treasure within this hellish crypt a necessary find.


	7. Anvil's Hidden Darkness

Cryptic clues, bounding from the heirloom as Varulae put her hands to its smooth glass orb-shaped surface, left Aderyn confused as for where next to head. The family heirloom, a crystal ball, was said to have precognitive visions of sorts. Though, the history flowing from the orb and into the eyes of Varulae and Aderyn left them speechless: a riddle unanswered or decrypted now seeking to be solved.

Anvil's hidden darkness, a sealed away horror

Without key for lock, no hinge for door

Once descendant of man, now son of darkness

Magic dismally hides what progeny confesses

While Varulae pondered over this much Aderyn paced back and forth – a shadow growing over his mind. The birth sign of Thormoor, his birth sign as well, repeatedly flashed back into mind – the ritual, an enigmatic curse consuming the lives of those whom are chosen to carry its burden. Though, a faint memory of old repeatedly came to him – more of legend really.

Carahil, the now head mage of Anvil's Mages guild, was said to have battled against one of Anvil's own greatest evils. Its sin: consuming the lives of others, using the ancient dark arts of Necromancy to fortify itself with their souls and in turn reign with a never ending life – Lorgren Benirus. The once proud owner of the now demented Benirus Manor mysteriously vanished, his spirit rumored to have infused with the house itself, spawning evil phantoms at his undying whim. Of course, these stories were shared between the youth of Anvil, the kids daring each other to near the evil house, touch it, and run back without soiling themselves.

_

* * *

_

Overcast clouds above showered Anvil, a foreboding afternoon to the youngsters in town, the timing perfect as they all gathered around the front courtyard of Benirus Manor, "The Haunted Mansion" as they all called it. Three children in particular stood in front, ahead of the remainders who chickened out. Aderyn, Azzan and Romiskeld – the three bravest kids in town, fearless warriors they called themselves.

_Azzan, the youngest of the three by one year at age six, offered to go first. With his heart ferociously pounding beneath his skin, he slowly crept up to the house. Despite his efforts, however, he made it only within ten feet of the house before a sudden bolt of lightning sprawled overhead, sending Azzan squealing in fright back towards the others. The rest of the kids laughed at him, but Romiskeld dared them all to try if they had any backbone behind their comments. Immediately they all shut their mouths._

_Romiskeld was next. His brave Nord heritage would guide him to victory, his words to all of the kids. Just as Azzan had, the young Nord boy inched his way towards the house, looming high over his head, and on the second floor its two spire-like towers morphed, in his mind, into two giant eyes watching as he neared his way along. Alas, a second bolt of lightning crashed in the distance, the fear for the house itself too overwhelming, and sent him speeding away._

_Now came Aderyn's turn. His reputation for confronting the dares of the other kids gave him confidence, their cheers in the background only coating his persistence in accomplishing the task. Step by step he made his way closer, the house looking far more menacing this time around. The large covered porch out front, its supportive pillars like a vicious maw awaiting his flesh to come within striking distance. Still, his fear would not overcome him. Unlike the other two, when a bolt of lightning stuck he did not back down – his hand only inches away from the stone walls._

_His hand met that of the cold wet stone. His fears, however, intensified as a surge of magical energy coursed through his body like that of shocking magic. A flutter of images, gruesome deaths performed for a self-satisfying power monger, rushed into his mind. Though, before he knew it he was lying on the ground, Romiskeld and Azzan dragging him back to the other kids. Their cheers sounding drowned out like listening to them from beneath water. His head swam about, the images still flashing into mind._

_That was the day, after touching the house, his birthmark vanished – consumed even by the magic sent throughout his body._

* * *

Aderyn stood before the house, the memories of his childhood adventures rushing back into mind. He heard rumors of Velwyn Benirus trying to sell the house. All citizens of Anvil, however, knew of the haunted manor and dared not even set foot near the cursed place. And, after a brief visit with the only one who could have confirmed his childhood fear of the place, Carahil reaffirmed the stories as true. She cautioned him of the place, knowing full well the power Lorgren possessed – his spirit, if it still be in existence, would contain an immense amount of power.

With the confirmation racing through his mind, the house now appearing more foreboding that he knew it to be true. Still, a faint voice in the recesses of his mind gave him confidence. He knew the gods watched out for him, and they would give him the necessary strength to overcome the evil embodied within the house. Taking his first step towards the house, the initial fear now gone with the holy adrenaline filling him, brought him ever closer to uncovering this mystery and finding Thormoor.

--

Two faint voices echoed from beneath a door adjacent a flight of stairs leading to the second floor, one human and the other evil. The darkly voice, tainted with malice, roared out against the second, followed by a blood curdling cry and then silence. If not for his vow to Romiskeld, furthermore his commitment to the gods, Aderyn would have returned out into the streets, safe from the evil compressing around him.

His hairs stood on end as he pushed open the door, the fetid stench of a decomposing corpse assaulted his nose. Goosebumps amassed across his skin as if the evil instigated their arousal. The air within the basement a thick and lifeless mire.

Even so, steadily he descended down towards the darkly voice, its unfamiliar chanting warning his conscience against proceeding. Fighting back the urge to run away, he came into view of a deathly being, dark ragged clothes hanging from its shriveled limbs – a deadly lich sorcerer. Off to one side the lifeless body of Velwyn Benirus lie limp, shriveled more so than the undead creature's. But the sight of these weren't what first caught his attention, for its hands waved above the missing child, Thormoor.

With a wild cry, Aderyn bounded forward, catching the menace with a quick swipe of his silver blade gifted to him for helping Varulae. A cry of agony resounded from the squalid creature, its hand severed. Though, the other hand quickly spun around and, catching Aderyn in the chest, sent him hurtling against the far wall.

Quickly he had to act, dodging the magic hurled at him by the lich, recalling his practice. Conjuring up multiple illusions of himself gave him the necessary amount of time to prepare a most useful spell in diminishing the spirit of an undead. A flaming blue ball of energy burst from his palms and collided with the lich, incinerating its flesh and severing its soul forever in the plane of Nirn – a combined spell of destruction and restoration. Destruction for incinerating the flesh and restoration for severing its spirit from possessing the lifeless body of Velwyn's spirit-consumed flesh. This fact lead Aderyn into believing that the lich, was in fact and truth, the power-hungry Lorgren Benirus.


	8. The Town Hero

"Where is that blasted mer?" Romiskeld impatiently paced back and forth, Vigdis sat in a chair set off to one side of their bedroom, her arms cradling Thormoor's blanket. Aderyn was supposed to immediately bring news, any news, should he find any. The day grew old and the sun waned off in the west – ominous shades of red reflecting from of the Abecean Sea. Some kind of news must have turned up by now.

Their house, a small shanty amidst the many other well endowed homes, lay not far from the chapel. Romiskeld increasingly grew angrier with Aderyn, but knew his anger should not be enticed. He vowed to visit the chapel when Aderyn returned with any kind of news on their son's location, promising himself he would apologize to the mer – his lifelong friend. Though, steadily the hours passed by and still no sign of the mer came. A subtle fear, slowly growing within his heart, birthed thoughts of a worst case scenario – both were dead. Trying to shake the thoughts from mind, Romiskeld kept himself busy tending to his wife, wishing to keep strong for both their sakes, and reassuring her that all would be fine.

Gradually, voices could be heard gathering in the streets. The voices began to rise in volume and number. Romiskeld, curious to see what was going on, walked to the window bordering their bed. People gathered around the cursed manor.

"What's going on?" Romiskeld made his way outside, asking one of the town guards amassed within the group.

"That mixed mer," his voice shook as he continued, "went in there."

Romiskeld's heart sank, remembering the tales of old that house contained. Could Thormoor be in there?

The guard continued again. "Some say he went in there to deal with that old demon. Lagirus, or something like that."

"Lorgren Benirus?" The guard nodded. Romiskeld returned his gaze to the mansion, recalling his childhood experiences with Aderyn and Azzan.

Many minutes went by and still the people remained. Their concern for Aderyn, the mixed mer as they called him, grew from a simple worry to downright fear of being consumed and the soul of Lorgren returning to take revenge upon Anvil. Though, no sign brought about his return.

Suddenly, the front door creaked open. All of the surrounding people gasped, but their fears relinquished when the familiar face of a dark skinned, blue eyed Elf protruded from the house, a small bundle delicately embraced in his arms.

Cheering erupted from the crowd and Romiskeld rushed to Aderyn, tears streaming down his cheeks to embrace his friend and reclaim his child. Though, the birthmark of Thormoor was missing. Pushing aside the concern for it, simply relieved to see his son, Romiskeld held the baby tight to his breast, weeping tears of joy.

"Thank you, Aderyn. I'm sorry for my anger towards you earlier." Aderyn placed his hand on Romiskeld's shoulder, conveying all was fine between them and the thank you was well received.

--

Two weeks had gone by, and Benirus manor, graciously offered to him by Countess Umbranox – the esteemed reigning widow of Anvil – and renamed to Aneureyn Manor, began to look more alive. Talk of his great deeds spread throughout all of Anvil – Aderyn the Lich Slayer. People greeted him whenever he passed by, thanking him for ridding Anvil of the cursed being haunting that corner of town. Parties were even held in his name for the first week, and people bought or brought him furnishings to liven the place.

Carahil even thanked him; her unfinished task now completed merited him an invitation to join the Mages Guild. It's not every day someone is simply able to overthrow a lich sorcerer. Grateful for the offer, but not quite interested as of right now, Aderyn declined. Even so, the offer remained should he ever come seeking it. Thanking her once more, Aderyn left, wishing to see his dear friends Romiskeld, Vigids and Thormoor, just wanting to be away from all of the adoration – it wasn't for him.

The mere sight of the mer sent the family into fits of laughter, thanking him for saving their son.

"Please, you two know me better than this." He cast away their gratitude, just wanting to fit in with the family.

"You're somewhat of a local hero, you know that Aderyn?" The mer just rolled his eyes, nodding his head, somewhat annoyed at hearing it for the umpteenth time. "Well, you're always a part of this family. And as such, it's your night to wash the dishes."

"What? How dare you treat the town hero like this!" Aderyn giggled, knowing this morning's breakfast prepared by Vigdis more than sated his hunger, and indeed left quite a pile of dishes to clean up.

Later that night, Aderyn shared with the two about his investigation, spawning a want to talk with Varulae sometime within the week. He had many questions for her, mostly concerning talk of her skill in magic. He hadn't seen anyone with her particular style in quite some time. After he went into the Serpent's Wake, she soon followed. Her display in the various classes of magicka intrigued him, reminding him of studies back on Summerset Isles.

--

The third of Hearthfire, a rather superstitious day for many, was nothing more than meaningless garble to the people of Anvil, the darkened day of Tales and Tallows. Though, the same could not be said for all. Wilhelm the Worm, while cheery on every other day, particularly kept quiet. In as few words as possible, he informed everyone that they should do so as well.

"This accursed day will drive evil spirits into your soul! Beware!" His words faded as everyone cast him aside, labeling him as the town coon.

Aderyn, while not believing such superstitious things, leaning more towards the factual pieces behind them really, grew quite fond of the beggar. He even invited him over a few times to share stories and meals. Today, however, the beggar seemed exceedingly gracious to be invited in – thankful to be near the town's only demon slayer.

"He wasn't a demon, Wilhelm" Aderyn chuckled as the credulous Nord wouldn't be swayed one way or the other. His beady eyes, quite unnatural for a Nord, darted around the room. "What is it, Wilhelm?"

The beggar's attention snapped back to Aderyn. "What? Oh, nothing. Er… can I ask a favor of you?"

"Sure. Anything." Aderyn nodded.

"Would you mind if I slept here? At least till this day is over really." His voice cracked a few times, the agitation of the haunting holiday too much for him to bear.

"Yeah, I think I can deal with that." The Nord rose up from his chair and tried to give Aderyn a grateful hug. However, Aderyn veered him away, leading him first to the shower room in the basement.

For nearly an hour, Aderyn let Wilhelm bathe in the warm refreshing waters, and brought him a change of clothes borrowed from Romiskeld. While not particularly fond of the beggar, Romiskeld admired Aderyn's commitment to Stendarr and his teachings of mercy.

--

"_Wilhelm,"_ a soft whisper wafted up from the basement, soothing and inviting to the Nord's ears. He hadn't slept most of the night, too afraid of his surroundings to even barely open his mouth for fear of a spirit creeping inside of him. But this voice beckoned him to follow, pleasant and friendly.

Cautiously, he descended down towards the basement, the voice leading him along, past the shower room and further into the bowels.

_Wilhelm,"_ the voice called out stronger. A pulsating light came from behind a hidden wall, Wilhelm's hands finding the needed magical stone to reveal the secret entrance. The light, almost drifting from out of nowhere, called to him again.

Entranced, he probed around the room, searching for where the light came from. His hands felt something… something unfamiliar to him. He toppled over, unconscious.


	9. A Cornucopia of Disturbing Concepts

"Focus, Aderyn! Your form has gotten sloppy, if you ever had any. I honestly don't know how the Altmer back on Summerset Isles even worked with you without giving up." Varulae sat down next to Aderyn in his house. The basement had been revamped into a training quarters of sorts. It surprised Aderyn how much the countess actually agreed to help him. Her thanks were in abundance, almost to the point of annoyance, but Aderyn gratefully accepted the large sum offered for helping Anvil. With the reward he was practically able to redo the entire mansion.

He had an additional wing installed at ground level, and the training room downstairs. Those were only the physical changes to the place; the others included various items of importance, such as new furnishings, additional dishware for visitors, along with other trinkets particular to him. While he was grateful for the furnishings provided by Anvil's citizens, the vast variety of colors and shapes clashed with each other. His most precious acquirement, however, came not in the form of household fittings, but more of flesh and blood.

His new pet, Cadogan, a small brown dog with white spots lining his back, and partly drooping ears, gave Aderyn a sense of comfort. The house was perfect, but seemed rather empty. The large black eyes of Cadogan, innocent and adorable, added that needed touch to completely liven the place. Old enough now to walk and even sit still for a decent amount of time, he sat off to the side, watching as Varulae instructed Aderyn on how to communicate with animals.

It had been three months since he first acquired the mansion, and already Aderyn felt completely at home again in the city. Varulae had been edifying him for several weeks, but to his consternation she was a relentless instructor. He hadn't openly practiced his magical abilities in large amounts at a single time, and overall it had been quite a while since he used it a fair bit. He wished to regain the knowledge he once possessed. Lucky for him, Varulae was also taught by Summerset's wizards, some of the greatest and imaginative magicians around.

Spells, designed for particular uses, could be somewhat "bent" to perform tasks other than what they were originally created to do. Varulae and Aderyn both knew this due to their unique training, but Aderyn had not practiced with them in far too long that he had nearly forgotten all he was taught. At this time, Varulae was trying to reinstall into Aderyn's mind the basis for the various classes of magic. The control aspects of Illusion could not only be used to command living organisms, but also be used to communicate with them. In order to do this, the magicka stored within said individual would have to be manipulated by applying various forms of mental tension to them.

Command creature, the spell being relearned by Aderyn, would have to be cast while applying that mental tension to control the effects of the spell. Instead of using it to "control" Cadogan, Aderyn would have to use it, instead, to open a mental link with him. However, Aderyn wasn't quite remembering how to do it – the source of Varulae's frustration.

"Alright" she said, throwing up her hands, exhausted, more mentally than physically, from the struggle with the Dultmer. "More like Dumb-mer" she grumbled, glaring at Aderyn.

"Oh, come on. One last time. I think I'm getting it." Aderyn reached for her arm, pleading with her to wait.

"No! I've taught you all I can for one day. You know what to do. Practice it in your own time. I'm through for today. I'll check back on you later this week. Hopefully you'll have progressed." She turned around to walk away, grumbling some more as she left.

Aderyn sat back on the small bench in the training area. He called Cadogan over to him, rubbing behind the pup's ears, working down towards his stomach. Cadogan's leg and tail shook in unison, obviously pleased.

"You understand me, don't you?" Aderyn looked in the dog's eyes, those cute yet oblivious eyes. Recalling his training, he once again focused, finding it quite a deal easier to focus his magic without the added frustration of Varulae.

Extending his mind, and applying the needed illusion magic, Aderyn touched the conscious of Cadogan. While not as sophisticated as a sentient being, creatures' speech patterns relay messages more through feelings when the mental link is applied. Simple commands may be understood, but that depends on how often the creature has been around people.

Aderyn wouldn't be able to communicate with Cadogan too much right now using actual words, but he did sense a certain feeling coming from the pup. A feeling coming from the stomach, bubbling, almost aching. Was it hunger? No, there was no sensation of feeding reverberating through the link. Aderyn, stirred from his wondering by a sudden noise, looked to Cadogan who looked rather relieved. The pup cooed, and, stretching across his sleeping pad, relaxed.

Aderyn gazed over his new friend, amazed at the mysteries of magic. Though, his attention was abruptly refocused as he gazed over to the hidden wall, the secret entrance to Lorgren Benirus' evil chamber. Something inside, ethereal almost, urged him to investigate further.

The room was empty, not surprising. After finishing the fight with Lorgren he incinerated the bodies, fully aware of the powers of necromancy, Lorgren's specialty nonetheless, and their abilities to suddenly repossess their lifeless bodies, converting them to Worm Thralls – the evil practice of converting a victim's body into a zombie, able to be commanded by the demented being that created it.

Aderyn sneered at the thoughts. How could something so evil have ever been created? His attention was again reverted as he saw a glimmering effect cast through a small crystal on the floor. Dark and unholy purple, the crystal was shattered. Its remains scattered across the floor.

"What is this?" Aderyn picked it up, noticing a dark presence creep up his arm. He immediately dropped it as the sensation felt as though it sought after his heart, wishing to devour it. He decided he would show it to Varulae in the morning. Whatever it was, evil had certainly been wrought through it.


	10. Regarding Rage

"Varulae, where are you?" Aderyn must have searched the Serpents Wake three times before giving up. Even his use of a strong Life Detection spell hadn't shown her. Varulae simply was not on board… or anywhere in sight for that matter. Aderyn decided to find her later. He hadn't seen Wilhelm lately either. It had been over a month, nearly two, since the beggar had last dined with him, and when morning came he upped and left without a word. _'Must be staying in the warehouse,'_ Aderyn thought to himself, noting the darkened clouds coming.

Wilhelm was nowhere to be found either. Something wasn't quite adding up. The dimmed atmosphere and the chilling presence Aderyn felt when entering the darkened warehouse sent shivers down his spine. "Where is he?"

Back outside Aderyn stood in silence, the gloomy clouds overhead threatening to shower him with their chilled, depressive rains. He halted a guard walking by on his regular patrols. "Have you seen Wilhelm?"

"That filthy beggar who stays there?"The guard asked, pointing to the warehouse. Aderyn nodded. "Can't say I have. At least not recently." Aderyn sighed, then looked to him for further information.

"When had you last seen him?"

"Heading far to the east and north of Anvil, I think… almost a week ago. He mumbled something about revenge." Aderyn looked distraught. "I-I hadn't thought of it at the time," the guard continued, "but he did look rather upset. And there was this strange presence about him. His eyes were dark, and he looked grayer than normal." It was true, the Nord was not one much for the sun. But he would occasionally come outside to converse with the locals. His skin tone, however, was quite fair due to staying indoors majority of the time, and he preferred not staying in the sun too long for fear of terrible sunburns.

"Well, have you at least seen where Varulae went?" At least if Aderyn could talk to her, she might be able to shed some light on the strange crystal. The guard nodded, saying she left town last night. She talked about some important matters to attend to and would return within the week. Aderyn thanked him for his assistance and continued on, wishing for some company amidst the dreary circumstances.

Romiskeld and Vigdis would be a cheery enough group to talk to. So, deciding to stop in, he headed for their home. Cadogan followed in tow, always cheery. "Of course, your company is always welcome." Aderyn smiled while petting the vastly growing dog. It surprised him how one so small at first could grow so quickly in only a few months. Cadogan's tail wagged in appreciation to the attention.

Coming to their house, Aderyn knocked on the door. No one answered. He checked the door, it was locked. "They must be out. I'll check with Azzan. He might know where they are." And indeed Azzan did know. They were there at the Fighter's Guild. Aderyn laughed as he saw Romiskeld trying on a set of clunky steel armor.

"What are you doing, Romiskeld?" Aderyn laughed some more.

"What?" The Nord turned around; he wasn't used to heavy armor and nearly tripped over the pointed steel boots as they clashed with each other. Aderyn and Azzan caught him midfall. Vigdis sent out a roar of laughter. Even Thormoor cooed in her arms. Aderyn looked over to the child, also amazed at how fast he'd been growing.

"What have you been feeding him? It's only been what… four months since his birth, and already he's larger than Cadogan was when I first got him." Aderyn lowered a finger towards the baby, holding his small hand between it and a thumb.

"He's a Nord baby, remember? We grow faster than most other races." Aderyn nodded to the truth of the statement. Vigdis lowered Thormoor down to see Cadogan, and they quickly took a liking to the each other. Everyone laughed some more at Thormoor's giggling from Cadogan's excited tongue incessantly covering the baby's face in puppy saliva.

Azzan looked to Aderyn. "So, when are you ever gonna' rejoin the Guild?" Aderyn stared up to him, his face growing dimmer, less joyful.

"You know I turned away from that path a long time ago."

Azzan shrugged. "To join the church? It's been seventeen years, Aderyn."

Aderyn slightly glared at him. "I wasn't going to be a killer anymore. There was too much death going on, and I didn't want a part of it any longer."

"So, Stendarr's teachings forbade you from serving your homeland?"

"Forbids me from going on senseless killing rampages!" Aderyn snapped. Azzan backed down, but knowing the real reason behind Aderyn's resignation from the guild. He was there that fateful day, just glad to be alive.

* * *

_Thirteen days had gone by, and still no sign of the damned marauders came. The entire group grew weary from lack of sleep and nourishment. Fatigue gripped at them, but still the mission must be accomplished._

_The days of rain, ending only to bring about fog and then more rain after that, aided them only in the form of cover from their enemies' sight. The ten men, with Aderyn as their head and Azzan as second in command, vigilantly waited. Their spirits waned in the mire, concerned for their mission's success. No comforts were granted to them, their presence a possible hindrance to the mission. Not even the warmth of a fire was allowed for fear of drawing attention._

_Their mission: to annihilate the marauders wreaking havoc upon Weye's people. Fort Nikel, the encampment of the marauders, was empty, barren of any forms of life whatsoever. Information received depicted twenty men would return within the week. But that news was apparently misleading and nearly a week more lay behind them._

_Ready to give up hope of ever finding them, Aderyn cast a long distance Life Detection spell in hopes of any possible tell-tale sign of their arrival._

"_Finally," he breathed a sigh of relief, "they're here."_

_Twenty of them, as said, marched on towards the encampment, dragging behind them the plunder of their recent pilfering. Aderyn motioned for the men to get into position, an ambush placed outside the fort to overtake the heathens._

"_Wait for it," Aderyn whispered. With his bow strung and arrow set, his first shot the signal for the men to attack. He waited for the enemy to close in. "Just a little closer."_

_Suddenly, several marauders' life sources flickered away… dead? Unbeknownst to Aderyn, a small group of men secretly snuck around back, somehow aware of the pending ambush, attacking the Guild members. Aderyn had barely enough time to counterattack the enemies – their movements like craved beasts, possessed and unfaltering eyes gazed upon him and his men – murderous gazes intending to kill. Tainted black armor covered their foul hides._

_Aderyn fought back, receiving a pierced leg and shoulder from crossbow bolts brought back from Morrowind. Though, redemption for his lost men rose within him. Every enemy in sight fell to his merciless blade. Hatred for them consumed his heart, a driving force taking control of his actions – "revenge, revenge". And as he stood there, the blood of his enemies covering his face, he realized his action was brought about more in hatred for the brutes and less for the loss of his men. Fear gripped at him, never again wanting to lose control._

_The life sources that flickered away were those of innocent citizens of Cyrodiil. Azzan and himself, the only two remaining men, were both wounded, Azzan more than he with a skewered side and both legs pierced by arrows – unable to walk. Aderyn carried him for a day, stopping only to heal him whenever possible on their way towards Chorrol. Aderyn then resigned when Azzan fully recovered, offering his services to Stendarr to never be the cause for more lives lost in combat._


	11. The Attempt

Sitting in his chair, a luxuriant purple accented by soft golden tassels dangling from the forearms, Aderyn idly eyed the fire. Stirring the smoldering embers with a poker, magically held up by his use of telekinesis, he thought of all the recent memories brought back to him. He hadn't only returned to bury Aldrina, but also to start his life anew, a refreshing beginning amidst all of the losses he'd received over the years. Though, the only thing that had come of it thus far was frustration. Seeing his friends again had been nice, but the constant reminders of his past – some things he wished to forget forever – were more often brought about now. Perhaps it was a bad idea to come back and stay. Maybe he should never have come, or at least he should move on.

Cadogan's sudden yelp broke the silence, Aderyn's attention now focused on the dancing pup. Confused at first, the mental link, once applied, quickly uncovered the truth to Cadogan's movements. A sudden urge to release bodily fluids along with other flowing items passed through the link to Aderyn. Thankful for the useful magicka, Aderyn hurriedly grabbed his coat and lead Cadogan out to relieve himself of the past day's building burdens, lest his living area become the home to several much unwarranted guests.

The night was crisp, chilly, but nice. Stars filtering the heavens in such a clear spectacle took Aderyn's breath away. He hadn't seen a night such as this since he'd last been in Anvil all of those years ago. Winter's nights were always more beautiful - today the fifteenth of Evening Star, and the beginning of Anvil's colder times. Aderyn thanked the Nine for such beautiful scenery, simply amazed at the vastness of such an incredible wonder.

While it never snowed in Anvil, the southern climate too warm for frost to fall, the clarity of the skies in the south were only more beautiful in the frigid skies of the north – to Aderyn a decent trade, warmer and beautiful to freezing and stunning. Even so, he had occasionally visited the north just to see the skies, particularly in the hottest part of Sun's Height, a somewhat less frigid time up north. A single sunset viewed from atop a mountain could no less be described other than extravagant, and the sight afterwards of nature's sky beyond compare to even try to explain. Perhaps one could describe it as an ethereal presence of heaven just out of reach to grasp, but even that couldn't possibly sum up the luster of it all.

Aderyn's days in Cyrodiil had been by far the most exciting times he'd ever had in one place. The vast types of climates and weathering conditions – ranging from dry and arid during Anvil's summers, blustering blizzards during Bruma's winters, and all over rainy throughout the year – it all excited him and made him feel at home… though, least of all Bruma's blizzards.

Darkness began to grow over Aderyn's mind, his admiration of night's company disrupted by a sleek shadow passing through the courtyard of Anvil. Aderyn had been mostly out of eyeshot from the darkened figure, barely glimpsing it as it quickly made way towards the western part of Anvil. Trusting Cadogan to remain hidden with a few simple instructions placed through his altered command spell, Aderyn stalked the figure, trying his best to remain as silent as possible. The shadow quickened its pace.

The darkness in his mind grew stronger. Was he being warned? The last time this happened was when he had to deal with the dreadful necromancer Lorgren Benirus. Were the gods alerting him to danger? All sensations of warning ceased as the being stepped onto the front steps of Romiskeld's house, the warning now a concern for his friends. Though, Aderyn had to quickly dodge into cover as the figure looked around, apparently double checking to make sure it wasn't being followed.

Stepping forward, the figure vanished – somewhat – a poorly applied chameleon spell adding to mask his already stealthy movements. Aderyn quickly sped up to the house, applying his own spell, a stronger more effective invisibility spell at remaining unseen if you plan to remain action free. Aderyn did, at least until he found it appropriate to strike the being.

It was dark inside and the chameleon spell worked fine within the dark, but Aderyn's trained sense of sound, taught to him during his days as a fighter when working in darkened caverns, quickly revealed the location of the shadowed character – his… hers… its stealthy footwork quite sloppy in comparison to most trained thief's. Or was it an assassin? Aderyn's heartbeat quickened as the notion crossed his mind. The being was definitely headed in the right direction. Aderyn followed a decent length behind, trying not to alert it.

The being was an assassin. Aderyn's speed quickened as he saw the shimmer from a knife pulled out of its sheath right before Romiskeld's and Vigdis' room. And, catching the knife in the air before the fateful blow to Romiskeld, Aderyn wrapped his powerful arms around the creature's neck, giving it a quick, effortless jerk. The cracking of bones aroused the couple from their sleep, seeing the distraught blue eyes of their, yet again, savior. They realized what had just occurred, their very lives in jeopardy now safe once again.

Aderyn let out a deep sigh, his heartbeat returning to normal. It had been years since he last had to take another's life. The stress of his covenant reassured in his mind as he placated himself for taking the assassin's life – "He would have murdered your friends. You did a justifiable thing." Though, the more he thought about it the more he realized he could have simply subdued the being – it was a male Argonian, the thicker tail jutting from his backside revealed that – instead of ending his life. Questions of the assassin's mission could have been answered as to why he was sent to end the Nords' lives.

Aderyn vowed to pray for forgiveness from the gods should they see fit to answer his request. Still, he once again felt a certain satisfaction in risking his life to save that of another's – especially those of his friends'. But for now he looked into the eyes of Romiskeld and Vigdis, worry and concern for what occurred. Someone wanted them dead and they most likely wouldn't be safe here in Anvil.

The questions of who would have to be answered soon, and, come morning, Varulae should be returning. Aderyn's questions on the crystal still remained unanswered. A concern for that, as well, grew in his heart. The evil that crept up his arm on contact with the thing needed to be answered before he up and left town. Come morning things would hopefully start to add up.


	12. Decisions

Varulae sat in front of Aderyn, entranced at what he was telling her. The dark crystal sat ominously on a table off to the side. The two could almost swear they'd heard the demented thing hiss. Aderyn had collected as many of the shards as possible and bound them up in a handkerchief, all of the pieces huddled within like a small congregated meeting of diabolical potential. Varulae eyed it, her mind racing as for the reason of its presence here in Cyrodiil. Very few had ever been seen, and certainly none within the Imperial Province – at least not known of.

Varulae looked back to Aderyn, her mind searching for at least one way to explain the object. She knew what it was, but as for how it operated – that was an entirely different story.

"Aderyn," she finally began, the words slowly forming in her mouth. "That thing," she said pointing to the crystal, "is a black soul gem – an evil creation for the uses, mainly, of necromancy."

Aderyn shuddered, he figured as such. But what was it doing down in the basement? Lorgren obviously had a use for it, but didn't even get a chance to use it – thankfully. Still, Aderyn pondered what exactly it did. He'd heard of Necromancers using them, but for what purposes? Did it behave like any other soul gem – the trapping of souls to be used for enchanting purposes? Aderyn always found the ability inhuman.

Aderyn couldn't stand the silence any longer, his voice streaked with disdain for the gem. "What is different about this soul gem? Doesn't it behave like any other normal one? Wouldn't it just steal the soul of creatures? Or can it steal more powerful souls?"

Varulae burst into laughter. Aderyn didn't find the questions funny, this was some serious stuff.

"You really think soul gems capture the souls of creatures?" Aderyn glared, but was confused.

"They don't capture souls?" Varulae shook her head. "Then what do they capture? And why are they called soul gems!?"

"Soul gems _were_ once thought to capture souls, but recently it has been proven that they don't." Varulae patted him on the shoulder, her laughter steadily dying down.

"But what _DO_ they capture?" Aderyn sat back in his large purple chair, the crackling of the fire next to him catching his attention. He couldn't help that he'd never been taught correctly about them – or ever taught for that matter. The matter of soul gems had never been brought up in his studies. Perhaps it was because his work ended prematurely. Varulae's voice called out to him. He'd apparently been lost in thought.

"Aderyn?" She made sure she had his attention, her eyes now locking with his. "Good, where were you just then?"

"Oh, just thinking about the stupid gems. Now, what do they do exactly?"

"You know how when using a life detect spell you can see the purple glow of any living figure?" Aderyn nodded, not exactly knowing where she was headed with this. What did a life detect spell have to do with soul gems? "And you see the purple glow sort of…" she looked around, searching for the right word, "pulse?"

Aderyn nodded, ideas raced through his head trying to connect the pulse with soul gems. Nothing. "And?"

"That '_pulse_' you see isn't their soul, you must know that." She looked to him, letting his mind piece it together. He must have at least learnt how a life detect spell works.

Finally, his eyes widened and the pieces started coming together. "The pulsation is the energy flowing through us – the magicka bound through our bodies – more of a life essence."

Varulae nodded, a wide toothy grin spread from cheek to cheek. "Exactly. That life essence is what is captured by soul gems. Nothing more, nothing less."

"But… what happens to the souls?" That single fact still seemed to evade him.

Varulae narrowed her eyes in annoyance. Steadily she raised an eyebrow and then smacked his forhead.

"What was that for?" He growled, rubbed his forehead, and glared furiously.

"The soul leaves the plain of Nirn and return to Aetherius! Or whatever god or prince they serve's own plain." Aderyn seemed dumbfounded.

"Oh, I knew that."

Varulae shook her head in disbelief. "You've apparently let your mind get sloppy over the years as well." Aderyn shrugged. "Well, since that is now settled… what to do about the black soul gem?"

One thing was for certain. Romiskeld, Vigdis and Thormoor couldn't stay in Anvil any longer. The mystery of the black soul gems presence in the province could be solved soon, but for now their safety was of top priorty to Aderyn. After sharing his encounter the previous night Varulae agreed to this. Aderyn could only think of one place he would risk putting them. However, it could potentially be a rather terrible idea for one main reason – him.

--

A wisp of dark hair fell out of place, his graying Mohawk needing a good trim. Perhaps he should dare have Sabine try her hand at it again. After all she was the best armorer in town, her own pair of shears the sharpest for several miles. Unsharpened shears always pull and tug rather than cut effortlessly through fur and hair. Though, he always did wonder why she kept them. There weren't any sheep around, the closest ones far to the south in Skingrad. Still, his mind raced over the remembrance of how she nearly left him bald, his bluish scalp not the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He always liked the hair style and she was the only one who knew somewhat how to make it just so. Sabine had the audacity to blame it on _him_ for squirming too much.

Quickly he tucked his shirt in, his usual unkempt appearance a definite no for the occasion. His newly acquired outfit purchased through Seed-Neeus gave him somewhat the air or regality. Perhaps he could pull it off – after all she was new to town. He still couldn't believe himself. "Really? Weatherleah?" He could still hear her angelic voice ringing in his ears. The lie he would somehow have to come up with on why exactly he wasn't there right now seemed a fitful challenge. Frustrated with his own weakness for her, he slumped onto his bed, a huff escaping his lips. "What am I going to do?" Maybe he should just tell her the truth – that would hopefully go over well considering he truthfully lived right next door.

A sudden rap on his door made him jump up and off the bed, nearly hitting his head on the low hanging ceiling. With a verbalized gulp he swallowed the sudden pounding of his heart. "Who is it?"

A familiar voice came through the door. "Modryn? Are you still there?"

Quickly the Dunmer opened the door. It was him, and he brought along friends. "Aderyn! It's been fifteen years!" Modryn grabbed Aderyn in a grateful hug, but lessened when he realized the mer couldn't stand it any longer. His grave expression conveyed he needed help.

"Come in." Modryn offered the couple a seat next to the fire place, noting their child. It had been rather chilly outside lately. Though, winters were always more beautiful in the north. Snow even began to fall, covering the countryside of Chorrol in a sheer blanket of pure beautiful white. "It looks like we need to talk." Aderyn nodded.


	13. For the Best

"So, you need the guild to protect them?" Modryn looked at Aderyn, who innocently nodded in return. Modryn rolled his eyes, rules were rules. The guild was not meant for baby-sitting.

Aderyn's gaze dropped. "Look, Modryn…" he pointed to the child, "they need help. Assassins are out to get them, and I need time to think. Please, can they at least stay here with you?"

"What, no!" Modryn adamantly shook his head, pointing to his single roomed house with his only single person bed. "Do you really think they could possibly stay here?"

"Fine, I'll get them a house close by. Could you at least check up on them periodically? C'mon cousin." It'd been a long time since Aderyn had called Modryn that, and it felt just a little awkward to use now. Modryn just raised an eyebrow. Their father's were cousins through their parents. Modryn's father, Boryn Oreyn, was the son of Cadoc Oreyn, who was in turn brother to Aderyn's grandmother, Lania Oreyn on his father's side, Gandrelius Aneureyn – also son to Aderyn's grandfather Syndelius Aneureyn (married to Lania). It was somewhat confusing trying to say how they were related, so they eventually settled on the fact that they were simply cousins by way of their Dunmer blood – a true enough fact.

"Aderyn," Romiskeld interjected, "you do know we're here in the room? We'll be fine. Maybe I could join the guild and we could stay there."

"No. That won't do. I can't risk your name being mentioned while in the guild. If you join, you'll have work to do. You can't just stay there without doing at least _some_ work. And doing work will spread your name around… trust me." He was right. Guild regulations state that the beds are only for the use of active members. And new names _always_ spread around.

Modryn paced back and forth. He didn't like the idea of people staying in the guild hall for long periods of time. Though, an idea came to mind that could bypass the rules and allow them to stay. A sly smile curled on Modryn's lip. "I've an idea, but I doubt you'll like it any more than the previously mentioned one." Aderyn glared, knowing precisely where the devious mer was headed.

Aderyn growled in reply, "Fine."

--

"Give me a break!" Aderyn wouldn't have done this in a hundred years. Though, his friends meant more to him than silly missions. But it was absurd that Modryn dare ask him to acquire a _recommendation_ from each of the guilds to allow him to continue. "That kind of Kagouti dung is for the Mages guild. Why do I need them? You know my skills!"

"Listen. I need all of the guild halls to pull their weight around, and I need your assistance in doing this. Work is tight and we need someone to show each city that it can be accomplished by us."Modryn gave him a wide toothy grin, clearly amused at Aderyn's disquieted form.

"You and your scheming ways, cousin" Aderyn hissed beneath clenched teeth, a furious glare daring to incinerate the inscrutable mer. After a lengthy pause he continued, finally calmed, an eyebrow still defiantly raised in disapproval. "What would you have me do then?"

"Start out in Anvil. I'm sure Azzan would like to see you in the guild… again." Modryn showed another of his malicious grins. Aderyn scowled all the more.

Turning his gaze back to Romiskeld and Vigdis, deliberately refocusing his temperament away from Modryn, Aderyn reassured them he'd be back as soon as possible. They nodded, stifled chuckles hidden behind their thankful smiles. He huffed at them and stamped off, needing time to think away from all of the frustration. Where was that blasted inn? Talasma's, right? He needed a drink as well, his mind requiring a decent loosened atmosphere to let the thoughts flow freely. Aderyn didn't like to think when he felt so tense.

A chill breeze rushed past him as he made his way over towards the town common – the stalwart Oak tree of Chorrol, the town's magnanimous icon, swayed ever so gently in the drifting current. Aderyn sighed at the familiar scene and gazed up to the stars. What was it the gods' wanted from him? Sure, he'd devoted himself to them – their cause made his all those years ago. But why exactly had they led him here? He felt certain their ethereal presence rang throughout his mind. Though, as for their intention for him to rejoin the guild, he knew not the purpose of this worthless venture. Had they even prompted this? Whatever they wanted it must be for the best.

A faint chatter scattered his thoughts. His gaze dropped down to a door granting free flowing traffic in and out of the establishment. Finally. Drunken louts, bamboozlers, and ne'er do wells – amidst the more generous and kindly faces of town – stirred about within the structure.

The Oak and Crosier, undoubtedly the second best inn and tavern in Cyrodiil – next to the Count's Arms Inn hosted by Wilbur, of course – seemed rather packed for an otherwise calm Middas night. Mayhap the conglomerated body heat within an appeaser to all those who sought a comfortable and friendly environment. Aderyn shrugged, noticing the mass of people shouting for drinks, the Khajiiti hostess' fur covered appearance barely visible as it weaved in an out of the other pelt swathed beings. And, after several moments of trying to flag her down, Aderyn managed to secure himself a bottle of his favorite entrepreneur's delicacy – Tamika's wines. The magically chilled amethyst liquid coating his throat, he took several swigs, the sensation of his mind loosening the release he'd been yearning for.

Aderyn settled back in his chair, noticing his lips involuntarily curl up into a pleasurable smile. He didn't try to stop them. Now, after all the trouble of brining Romiskeld and Vigdis here, being attacked by a few bandits one of his lesser enjoyable moments during their journey to Chorrol, Aderyn felt relaxed. Though, why did it have to end so soon?

"Aderyn?" came a shrill voice, an all too familiar ache in his mind arising. He dared not react to the call. He didn't want to ruin this comfort. Sliding down further into his chair, Aderyn pretended not to notice as he smiled and guzzled down another mouthful of wine. Maybe she'd leave him be.

"Aderyn!" the voice came louder, this time bringing with it her appearance. Her flaming red eyes, not in the good way mind you, seemed to bore into his. A snarl formed on her lips as she shouted his name again.

"Oh, Nardhil…" Aderyn fumbled his drink, nearly tipping it over as she startled him with a hard punch to his arm. She appeared the same as when he'd last seen her. Those unusually large, red eyes mounted into her oblong face. Her bluish, reddish… nay, purplish skin, giving the appearance of a rotting ash yam, each and every time made his flesh creep. Aderyn always disliked her… her voice… her appearance… her everything! Why couldn't she just leave him alone for a change? What did she want? What did she always want?

"Oh, Nardhil? Is that all you can say?" She punched him again and growled, grimacing as he silenced her with a swift hand covering her mouth.

"Won't you just stay quiet, for once…?" Her eyes slightly softened, only to return once again with a fiery stare and a bite to his hand. Yelping rather loudly, the sudden outburst drawing all eyes to him and the furious Dunmer female, Aderyn recoiled from the attack.

With a final yell of her hate for _'what he did'_, Nardhil stormed out of the tavern, a trail of bewildered guests switching their stares towards Aderyn. What was _her_ problem? Never had she displayed such anger towards him. And what did she mean by '_How dare he'_? Aderyn shrugged and went back to his drink. She'll get over it – or would she? Apparently she'd been keeping whatever it was in over the past nine years. Wow, it's been nine years.


	14. The Other Beginner

Stiff. Aching. Burning. Aderyn felt horrible. Maybe he should have quit when Talasma suggested he do so after finishing the first bottle of wine. But no, he had to try for a second… plus a shot of brandy. He felt excellent last night, his tongue pleasantly coated in the savory liquid now numb and swollen. And the agonizing headache amassing behind his eyes imperiled to explode into a full-blown migraine. He again realized why he usually tried his best to stay away from large amounts of liqueur.

Gingerly, Aderyn sat up. "Where am I?" He noted the velvety blue linens blanketing him, and matching blue drapes veiling the window, small streams of light sneaking in through several minute unrepaired holes. And, except for those small sections of lit floor, the room remained relatively dark. That is until a cheery female voice painfully reverberated through his mind like a small marble ricocheting in his head, mashing his brains into mush.

"Wake up, sleepyhead. You've been out cold for far too long." The familiar voice flung open the curtaining, the assault of sunlight momentarily blinding Aderyn. Reflexively throwing his hands up, Aderyn tried to protect his eyes from the intense beams, his hands contacting a welt on his forehead. Pain streaked outwards from the bump, the pain elevating to twice as terrible.

"Ooh, I wouldn't touch that if I were you." She went over to aid him, her voice sounding more familiar the more he heard it. "You earned that after coming out of the tavern, all drunken and disorderly you were. Slipped and whacked your head pretty good against the light post." She dabbed the raised bruise with a cool, wet cloth.

Aderyn sank back into the bed. Great! He had two headaches to worry about. One on the inside _and_ one of the outside. "Who are you? And, where am I?"

"Silly, it's me, Nardhil. And you're at the Oak and Crosier. But don't worry, I slept at my house." Even greater! A third nuisance to deal with. Aderyn moaned, distraught as to why she, of all people, had to help him out. Maybe this was some sort of sick prank at his expense the gods found humorous. They knew his dislike for her. He moaned again. Though, her touch seemed soft, relaxing even. At least he'd slept alone, the thought of anything else drowning out as her touch softened. She could be so odd sometimes; her moods seemed to change _too_ often for his liking - yet another thing he disliked about her.

Gently she stroked the bruise, the dampened rag a reliever in its raw condition. In combination with the rag Nardhil sent small tendrils of healing magic into his aching cranium. The pain lessened with each caressing wipe, her fingers fondling a stray strand of hair as she worked from temple to temple. Maybe she wasn't so useless. Aderyn slowly slipped back into a restful sleep, and when he once again awoke Nardhil – thankfully – was gone.

--

Back in the Fighters Guild Aderyn scrounged around for a decent piece of armor. His rest at the Oak and Crosier helped, but frustration once again built in his mind. How was it at all possible that the renowned Fighters Guild of Chorrol, the headquarters for the entire operation – who handled majority of the recruiting for the guild – didn't have at least some miniscule scraps of iron armor? Sure, work had been rough, but the guild should at least have a stock of _some_ extra armor! He then found himself wandering the streets, looking for a decent armory.

"Fire and Steel." He read the sign mounted atop a small building – a well-built hovel was more like it. Though, a great heat arose from beneath the door, warming his feet and warding off the cooler element of winter, and reminded him of summertime on the shores of Anvil: the warm sands of Anvil's beaches in between his toes comforting him from the soles of his feet and rose to warm the rest of his body. Despite winter's cold embrace over Chorrol, snow had not yet fallen. And, in spite of this fact, lingering about in the cold air remained and obsolete idea as Aderyn quickly shuffled inside, welcoming the new warmth.

An odd assortment of armors and weapons lay on display – and not even a full suite of any particular kind of armor. Though the weapons exhibited a magnificent flavor, and none of any Cyrodillic fashion had Aderyn ever seen. They were all types of weapons from the lands of Hammerfell, the homeland of the Redguard warriors.

"I'm Rasheda, the best smith in town. Can I help you?" A more red than brown skinned Redguard walked into view, her tousled hair pulled back into a hastily made ponytail. A set of hammer and tongs dangled from her belt, clinking together every time she made a movement. And her work stained apron reeked of smoke and her face was smudged with soot – an average sized kiln blazed in the back evidencing her appearance.

"Actually, maybe you can." Aderyn gazed over the several sets of armor – each categorized in their effectiveness of protection and agility. Finally deciding on a not too bad match of armors, he picked out the only cuirass she offered, iron, a set of Orcish gauntlets, matching Orcish boots, and an odd set of black leather greaves – though armored heavier than leather in the vital areas, two flaps aesthetically attached to a nice black leather belt and trailed down to ankle level. Several pockets and niches allowed for secretly hidden daggers and other paraphernalia. She claimed to have acquired it from a peculiar Bosmer smith in Bravil selling the armor. He filed that bit of information into the back of his mind for the next time he visited Bravil while "earning" his recommendations.

Trying out his new ensemble he asked her how it looked. With a critical eye, she gazed over the handiwork, adjusting a strap here or fixing a loose iron plate there. Once finished, he searched through the assortment of weaponry, two in particular catching his eye.

"Those are two of my best," she said picked up both weapons – one a broadsword, a brown leather spiral bound grip with an iron diamond-shaped pommel. The iron guard curved slightly upward, the entire handle just over ten inches. And the blade itself, a strong steel expertly tempered, boasted a nice twenty-nine inches. The second sword, called an Elhazan Saber, sported a slightly curvaceous blade at thirty-six inches, a tilde shaped guard, and a foot long red-leather bound grip – a two handed weapon crafted for deadly, cleaving swipes.

After purchasing both weapons, his personal choice of weaponry leaning more towards two handed swords, but a shorter blade would help in tighter sections – caves in particular – he also purchased a plain iron bow and some arrows and headed towards the guild.

Modryn greeted him at the door, another of his wicked smiles showing he had some sort of added torment to give Aderyn. Once Aderyn came into speaking range, Modryn revealed his intent.

"I want you to meet your new partner."

"Ankle biting wingless Cliff Racers!" Aderyn's unusual curse caused them to laugh, though he found it not quite so funny. Obviously this was another form of Modryn's torturous ways to get back at him for quitting in the first place. He hit below the belt this time. _Why me?_


	15. Return to Anvil

Sun set and with it came a chilled breeze. Perhaps it wouldn't have seemed as cold if Aderyn were by himself – instead of with her. Why was Nardhil being played into this part of his life? Why now? Why ever? Deciding to press on, he'd just have to make the best of it.

The return journey from Chorrol had been fairly peaceful, and they had profited from slitting highway-jiit's purses after being "charged" to travel on "their" roads. Each and every time brought smiles to both their faces when they were fairly far down the road, and the yells and curses shouted from the bandit Khajiits reached their ears.

Nardhil's disposition towards him had improved since when he'd first seen her back at the Oak and Crosier two nights ago, and since then she hadn't seemed _as_ bad as when he'd last remembered. Her eyes weren't quite so large; her skin appeared more a warm violet than an actual rotting ash yam purple; and her touch, since when she last helped ease his well earned, and well deserved, headache, was quite… pleasing. Maybe she wasn't _that_ bad.

Nevertheless, the slightest hint of fondness growing in Aderyn shattered, her strident voice interrupting the appreciated silence. "Why did you leave the guild?" That wasn't a question Aderyn felt quite comfortable answering, especially when she asked it. His brows furrowed and teeth clenched. Nardhil noted these things and continued on in silence. _Whatever it was, Aderyn must have dealt with some sort of great pain._

After several long, awkward moments, Aderyn took in a deep breath and looked at her with a weary gaze. "Let's just say I caused a lot of hurt to a lot of people." She nodded, understanding he wasn't ready to fully reveal his reasons to her.

Secunda and Masser rose high into the bleary sky, shrouded in darkness, their faint outlines behind moving clouds dim and unclear. A weak charge was in the air. Rolls of thunder sounded in the distance, gradually working their way outward from the Abecean Sea, and spreading across the Gold Coast like a dark and obscuring hand. A hard, freezing rain fell on Aderyn and Nardhil, thankfully not sooner, as they passed a fair inn nestled off to the right in the small of a thicket.

A simple two story building, Gottshaw Inn, and hosted by a stout Bosmer, offered bedding and meals. After renting them each separate rooms for the night, the Bosmer, Foroch was his name, invited Aderyn and Nardhil to sit down at the bar and converse with him.

"It's not often I get guests in here" he started off into the possible reasons why the place lacked a certain… fullness. "Mostly they're just passersby on their way to Anvil. Or they stop at the more commonly known Brina Cross Inn a little ways up Gold Road and stop there for a visit. That cursed Christophe Marane." Foroch focused tensely at the lackluster fire aside to his right, the feigning embers reflecting in his eyes. His face began to redden.

All of the sudden a crash of lightning struck nearby. Either at the same time or slightly afterwards – for an uncountable and rather instantaneous time had passed – Foroch shouted, seemingly provoked by it, or else was simply angry with the esteemed proprietor of the Brina Cross Inn. His words, while muffled by the loud clash, were clearly audible, uttering something about voluptuous Betty Netches. Aderyn and Nardhil chuckled, the sight of the ridiculous Bosmer, his incessant clinging to a large red leather backed book, a humorous one indeed. The lightning _had_ frightened him.

"Mara preserve us!" Foroch whispered as another thunderous clap sounded, his shivering figure rattling the stool he sat upon.

"What book do you have there?" Aderyn noticed letters of unique design along its spine, several raised bands intermittently breaking up the wording.

"Oh this?" Foroch placed the book back onto the counter – _The Last King of the Ayleids_ it read. "It's just a small keepsake I personally find comfort in. It tells of the last of the Ayleids, as seen by its name. But more specifically of their last ki…" his words were interrupted by another crash of lightning. He leapt out of his chair, cradling the book to his bosom. "Oh! Good heavens. I'm sorry my friends, but this storm is getting to me. I hope your stay here is pleasant. Now if you'll excuse me." With that, both Aderyn and Nardhil found their way up the stairs and to their bedrooms, and when awaking the next morning fairly rested, despite the torrential weathering conditions.

--

Even though snow would not fall in the southwest, rain felt frozen as it pelted Aderyn and Nardhil. Grateful for at last reaching Anvil, they bolted towards the guild, taking cover within. Noon's sun was now high in the sky, but no sign showed as darkened clouds blocked out the pleaded and greatly wished for warmth. And a great wind arose from the sea and blew across the land, adding to the already frigid climate.

Aderyn, comfortably nestled beside the second story's fireplace, privately informed Azzan of the reason for his sudden departure and return. Azzan pondered over Aderyn's words. This news was indeed distressing, and action must be taken. But something wasn't adding up. They needed more information, though the knowledge of how to attain it repeatedly escaped them.

Pushing aside the hindered knowledge, another issue now needing to be taking care, he told Azzan of Modryn's orders. Azzan chuckled, but did have of a particular task come to mind. Earlier that day there had been an enthusiastic Altmer wishing for protection while traveling through some rumored abandoned Daedric Shrine, though she wasn't sure. Aderyn accepted the job and went to find Nardhil.

Meanwhile, Nardhil quickly took to one of Anvil's Fighter Guild members, Llensi Llaram, a female Dunmer, sailor, and practiced warrior. For several minutes they discussed many different things, such as: the open sea, life in the Fighter's Guild (more from Llensi than Nardhil), life in Morrowind (once again, more from Llensi), and finally ending with odd bits of training techniques. Nardhil demonstrated a few methods not quite natural to the "untrained", as she so strongly declared– claiming to have picked them up when visiting the arena, and then practicing them in her own time or with her father before he passed on to Aetherius.

Aderyn found the pair discussing this, but, while impressed with the knowledge Nardhil displayed to Llensi – Nardhil had slowly walked her through a few of her own improvised moves – their task had been set. Nardhil nodded, bidding Llensi farewell and good luck.

"What's our mission?" Aderyn waited to be out of earshot from the guild.

"We're to protect a wandering scholar, Elante of Alinor." He rolled his eyes. Yet another baby-sitting job.

"From what?"

Aderyn looked at her and shrugged. "It's an old Daedric Shrine. Gods' know only what dangers may lurk in those demented depths. Though, it's supposedly deserted. But I think there's something she's not telling us." So with that they headed to the north and west of Kvatch, seeking out this purported scholar.


	16. Wandering Scholar

Elante of Alinor, a bigoted being even for an Altmer –her blatant racism issues obviously playing into part – her supercilious expression thoroughly examining them. Why couldn't she just tell them she didn't want _their_ help and be done with it? Why was she delaying? With a wicked smile, Elante finally said something, her pretentious glare not withdrawn.

"I suppose you'll do." Her only words, full of malice and hatred for Dunmer kind, left Aderyn and Nardhil slightly on edge. What did she have planned?

With a quick rap to her leg, beckoning them follow like her own pair of privately owned pups, Elante scolded them for not sticking close. "This is a Daedric Shrine afterall," she said nonchalantly. Nardhil furiously glared at Elante, a small lick of flames trailing along her fingertips intended for intimidation. Elante scoffed and turned away. Aderyn motioned for Nardhil to calm.

Bitterly whispering, Nardhil cursed the racist Altmer, reluctantly following in tow. To keep her mind from escalating any further, the fury building inside already peaked, she focused on the cavern before them, her trained eyes taking in every detail. Aderyn did so as well while making sure to keep particular track of their client, Elante, her every movement made to prove some form of sophistication – the way she carried herself deliberately done so to show _superiority_. Her head held high she continued on.

Nardhil stopped, Aderyn doing so as well. He looked to her; worry ridden eyes knowing precisely why she had.

"Do you smell that?" Nardhil sniffed the air, a heavily tainted odor rising from the depths. Aderyn nodded, smelling it too. They weren't alone.

Elante threw her head back in anger. "Why, pray tell, have we stopped?" Nardhil thrust a finger to her lips, motioning the vociferous mer to do so as well. Aderyn noted a faint purple aura coat Nardhil's body, a life detect spell. Nardhil's face froze in shock. Curious as to what she saw, he cast the spell as well.

"Looks like you'll be needing us all the more," Aderyn audibly whispered. There had to be at least thirty or so life forms patrolling the depths, their auras slightly different than normal. "Daedra," he grumbled.

Elante's face exploded into a look of fear. "A-actual… d-d-daedra?" Her voice quavered.

"Is there something about this shrine you might want to tell us?" Aderyn walked up to her. With a shove, she pushed him back, resuming a calm, though slightly irritated, expression.

"Nothing more than you already know," she shouted.

"Quiet woman!" Nardhil hissed. Aderyn chuckled. _'Ironic.'_ "Do you want to draw every daedra to our position?"

Another shove prodded, Elante backed away from them. "I'll go on by myself if you two aren't willing to deal with a few pathetic scamps." She haughtily folded her arms.

"It's fine by me." Nardhil too folded her arms and turned around, ready to walk away.

"Nardhil." She turned around to see Aderyn slowly shaking his head.

"What?" Nardhil threw her hands up in frustration. "You heard her. She doesn't need our help. Or want it." After a moment she reluctantly agreed, grumbling the whole while.

Aderyn looked back to Elante. "Like it or not, we were signed up for this. So, it's our duty to protect you. Lead on." Aderyn motioned for her to continue. Elante inspected him; her harsh, judging tone almost seemed to shift, lessen even. With an urbane nod, she moved forward.

"Just to let you know," Elante quickly looked back to Aderyn, "there're more than just _pathetic scamps_, as you so carelessly put it, further in." He smiled at her, watching her face change from one of frustration and annoyance to one of caution and wariness. The familiar purple shimmer, now traveling the length of her body, sent a slight chuckle through Aderyn. _At least her racism has somewhat subsided – somewhat._

--

The inner depths, much like the upper levels of Brittlerock Cave, contained more of the same rock walled caverns. The time spent traversing went from minutes, to a modest hour, and soon forming into what seemed endless hours of exploration yielding nothing except trouble. For unlike the upper levels, it also contained much more daedra. Already Aderyn and Nardhil left a steady trail of Scamps, Clannfears, Spider daedra, even an accursed Daedroth. With active Life Detect spells constantly renewed, more enemies remained, some even in humanoid form. This small fact left them worried. Not many daedra appear in humanoid form, especially not on the plane of Nirn.

Meanwhile, Elante constantly reached into her pocket, fidgeting with something unseen, her nervous expression betraying that she had told them everything. Following in suit, her gaze began to dart around, searching for something unknown to the others. And after an extended period of time of the foolishness, Nardhil pinned the paranoid mer to the nearby wall, her arms and legs securing Elante's in place.

"What do you know of this place? What, exactly, are you looking for?" Elante tried to struggle free of the stronger mer's hold.

"Get off of me you… AHHH." Elante screamed, only to be silenced by Aderyn's armored hand.

"No, I think it's time you gave us a little bit more information of Brittlerock. Now, I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth and you're going to answer, quietly. Right?" Elante nodded. Cautiously, Aderyn pulled away his hand, prepared to quiet her once more. Thankfully, she kept quiet. In fact, she kept so quiet she had not uttered another word, neither in self-defense nor in revealing knowledge of their surroundings.

"I grow tired of this," growled Nardhil, her hand raised ready to strike.

"Wait," Elante started, her nervous expression once more calmed. She took in a deep breath. "This is a shrine to Molag Bal – Daedric Prince of Domination and Slaving, otherwise known as the King of Rape, I know" she said quickly, noticing their disgusted faces. "I'm actually here on behalf of someone else."

"Who? And why Molag Bal? Why not one of the other, lesser evil Princes… if there is such a thing?" Nardhil loosened her hold, but prepared to force Elante back up once more.

"Look, it is personal – and entirely my fault." Elante's voice, laden with grief, drooped as her eyes fell to rest on the floor, full of sorrow and remorse. Nardhil let her drop completely, tears now freely flowing down her cheeks.

Aderyn's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping of the hidden object in her pocket. "What's in there?"

Taking in another deep breath, Elante slowly reached in, pulling out a small black gem, dimly glowing with stored energy. Aderyn gasped. She nodded and whispered, "Yes, a filled black soul gem."

Aderyn searched her eyes for some sort of confirmation that she was good. A faint glint, amidst a terrible darkness her eyes revealed, showed through. "What have you done?"

"I was only trying to release my sister's soul from his plane. I went to his statue and he told me to visit this place. He said to come with a filled black soul gem. I-I had to."

"So, taking another's soul to relieve your sister's from His demented plane is what you consider righteous in His eyes?" Aderyn hissed, drawing his broadsword.

"It's not like that." Elante's tears came on stronger. "No, wait!" she cried, Aderyn's sword now pulled back, ready to relieve her of what she stole. Though, it wasn't Elante's cry that stayed his hand, it was Nardhil's soft-spoken voice. Perhaps the gods used her to do so, but Nardhil laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Aderyn," she said, her voice calm yet authoritative. Gentleness, too, swept through Aderyn. Relaxing his grip on the sword, and his heavy breathing slowing to a now tranquil pace, he sheathed the blade.

"Whose life have you condemned for the life of your sister?" Aderyn gazed towards the ceiling, silently asking for forgiveness from the gods for an unjustifiable act he nearly committed.

"A foolish assassin's. He was following my sister, Varulae…" Aderyn cut off her words.

"Varulae? She is your sister?" Aderyn further berated himself for his own foolishness. How could he have been so blind? Her snobbishness wasn't racism, but the average snooty mage glare. He knew he had recognized it from somewhere. And it should have occured to him when she said her sister was once a follower of darker ways.

"You know her?" Aderyn nodded.

"I'll help you free your sister. Tell me, what had Molag Bal wanted you to do here?"


	17. Condemnation

"You walk in the shadow of the corrupter," growled the vicar of the benefactor of cruelty, patron of malice and physically perverted evil, the Daedric Prince Molag Bal. The worshipper's cropped hair revealed angry wrinkles formed in the likeness of a scowl. And what a fearsome scowl it would have been had Aderyn not come on a mission – even his stare-off matches with Azzan had not been this fierce – but he refused to give up. A comfort washed over Aderyn and he felt at ease – except for in one small way.

One of the other worshippers, a gaudy Dunmer male by the name of Olyn Seran, stared at him in such an awkward way that Aderyn shifted in place. He averted his eyes and stared back at the demented priest.

"Why do you come to this place," continued the pale Redguard.

Aderyn hesitated. He had to do this. "I've come to make a deal with your lord."

The Redguard smirked. "What business do you have with Molag Bal, the tormentor of Men?"

Almost immediately Aderyn wanted to shout out, "I have no business here!" and end it with a "You filthy maggot!" But should he have followed his initial thoughts, he could never complete his task, and he would be ashamed of not even trying in the least. He managed to form the words, pressing past the lump in his throat. "I've come to make an offering. My business is with Bal and Bal alone."

"Very well then," growled the priest. "If you've truly come to make a deal with Molag Bal – if you believe yourself worthy enough of His grace – present HIM with the offering of the pelt of a lion." He grinned maliciously. The vicar knew, just as everyone did, that the lions of the Gold Coast in particular – the closest area where they prowled – were some of the fiercest in the whole of Cyrodiil. But his demented smile quickly turned to a frown as Aderyn pushed past him, revealing a large clump of golden fur freshly skinned from a mountain lion.

Aderyn presented the pelt, laying it upon the stone pedestal set before the stone shrine. At first nothing happened. The devoted men and women to Molag Bal stared at Aderyn in silence. At least a gentle breeze rustled the grass and leaves, and wisped away the hair fallen in front of his eyes. The Redguard cackled and neared toward Aderyn, but something then changed. The priest's evil grin fell, and his eyes were downcast. Molag Bal had come.

Immediately the other worshippers bowed in reverence to their Lord. They, each and every one of them, knelt in the presence of the one they sought after day and night like honor-bound dogs with their tails tucked between their legs for fear of their master's punishment should they not do as instructed. A heavy demonic presence filled the area, stifling the wind, drowning out all serenity. Aderyn strongly felt the presence slithering around his ankles like a snake. He sensed its putrid aroma smothering nature's fragrance like meat left to rot in the sun. But above of all he heard. Aderyn heard the lust in Bal's voice. The lust for flesh, mind and spirit.

"What is this they bring me, O fetid Nine?" Bal's cunning voice inquired, echoing in Aderyn's mind as if he heard it in a tunnel or empty cavern. "Another mortal come to do my bidding? But not just any mortal. A _Child of the Nine_!" The evil prince said loathingly.

"Listen here, Elf. Listen to _my_ voice." Bal spoke in a serenading tone, crafting every word with purposeful desire. "Listen to me and follow me. Your _gods_," he spat the word, "they only care for things with one life. But _I_… I can bring death. And with death comes a new, everlasting life. Through pain shall you find pleasure. Through suffering shall you find longevity. I can bring you both." Bal let his words sink in.

Aderyn grimaced and Bal laughed. "Do not resist desire. Despite your apparent lineage and long-lived races – O yes, I know of your ancestry; I know of your half-blooded origin. Despite these things, you shall die. But not only will you die physically – no, there indeed will be more – not only will your flesh rot away and never be seen again, never recognized for who it really was… you will die and never be remembered.

"Your precious Nine have no care for beings that are dead. They offer no life after death. They only care for what they can use now: those who carelessly follow their _Divine Path_. The path they formed for those who are blinded to do their bidding for the better of the world? No, they misuse mortals and elf-kind to help them satiate their own selfish purposes.

"Follow me and you will know a new life. You will know of death and pain and suffering, and through those you will also know immortality. And with eternal life can you then show others the _TRUE_ path of enlightenment." Bal quieted to a whisper. "What say you, last of the Aneureyns? What say you to allowing your legacy to linger on for eternity?"

Aderyn looked up into the eyes of the Prince of Torture and held his gaze for a moment before answering. He then let the words drop from his mouth with ease, having resisted the demented desires drifting from Bal's ethereal maw. "No," Aderyn spoke in a firm voice. "I do not come to follow you, but rather to retrieve what you have stolen."

"Ah yes, that pathetic Altmer, Varulae," Bal hissed. "Quite more trouble than the offer really was worth. Tell me, seeing as how you did go to _protect_ that foolish Elante, how fared her quest of mine?"

"She has returned to her higher calling. Elante denounced you as her liege and now follows the Nine."

"Yes, I know of this. I no longer can feel her life force among my followers," Bal hissed, and then remained silent for a moment. He growled in aggravation. "Pray tell, then, why have you come to me if not to offer your soul to be added among my minions?"

"You know what it is I have come for." Aderyn crossed his arms. "Bal? Varulae does not belong among your ranks."

Bal hissed again. "You know I cannot simply just hand her over. But…" He trailed off. When he kept silent for too long a moment, Aderyn spoke.

"What's your price?" he whispered, almost afraid of the answer to come.

"Yes. My price. A life for a life, a soul for a soul. There is one in particular I wish to see in my service. The man I speak of, Melus Petilius, is in the service of yet another Daedric Prince, one of my foolhardy brethren. However, his… uh, talents, are not being put to use. I wish to see this man condemned and converted. I wish to feel his soul in my grasps. I want to see a man brought to the edge. And pushed. You will do this for me, and in return I shall release that wretched witch of a mer."

Aderyn hesitated. Did he dare accept this offer? Did he dare tamper with the control of minions between deistical rulers? Varulae…

Heaving a sigh, he closed his eyes. _What do I do now?_

"What will you have me do?" he asked Bal.

Bal cackled maniacally. "Oh, that's the spirit. I like to hear humility. Yes. Near Brindle home, just southwest of my shrine, you will find Petilius. A good man. An honorable man. He disgusts me. I wish to see him commit murder, and in doing so be brought into my services." Aderyn gasped. Did he mean? "Indeed," Bal answered as if reading his thoughts. "You will let him kill you with this." A dark-metal mace with dozens of crude spikes protruding for its girth appeared before Aderyn. "The Cursed Mace. Make him use this against you. Force him to commit the act he has promised never to perform and his soul will be forfeit unto me."

Aderyn shook his head. "How do you expect me to force a man to commit murder? Let alone allow him to just kill me?"

"Oh, stop squabbling."

"But if he kills me, I'll be dead."

"Semantics, pathetic mortal." Bal sighed. "Fine, as you wish. While you are doing this task," he released an annoyed huff, "I'll save your useless life. Probably," he added under his breath." I'll even allow you to feel no pain as he pummels your wretched carcass to a pulp. But if you do this for me! If you, in fact, are able to accomplish this simplistic feat, I'll release your precious _Varulae_ from my hold and you can go on again and live your happy little lives FAR away from here. Now get out of my sight before I turn you into a pig, or sheep, or something worth only for its meaningless hide."

Bal became silent and the evil tendrils receded away from Aderyn. He felt lighter and at ease. The stifled air lifted and his breaths came easier. What had he just committed himself to?

_O' Nine, forgive me._ Aderyn picked up the mace and headed southwest.

---

Brindle Home: a quaint village containing only a few individuals trying to forge a fresh life for themselves. Aderyn proceeded into the midst of the village with downcast eyes. Several people looked at him curiously, but otherwise left him alone and went about their work. He tightened a worn green cloak around himself and pulled down the hood.

The sky darkened as he neared toward the center of the village and thunder clouds formed over head but sent forth no rain, presumably because of the condensed canopy the crowded trees provided. Most of the people began collecting their tools and equipment and retreated into their homes. When Aderyn tried to ask about Melus, most people scurried along at a quickened pace, giving him cautious glances.

Sitting on the trunk of a recently felled tree – many parts had been sawed off and taken for use in building some of the homes – Aderyn pondered his mission and whether or not he was doing the right thing.

_The followers of the Daedric deities… its not like they're worshippers of the Nine. So what does it matter who they serve?_ Aderyn tried to reassure himself that he was doing the right thing. _They're all heathens, anyways. They serve heathen gods so they don't deserve just treatment._ Aderyn nodded his head in affirmation to his decision. But something didn't quite fit.

_But Elante was… and now Varulae…_ His thoughts were interrupted as a balding and graying fair-skinned Altmer came up to him.

"Can we help you here, sir?" the mer asked with a kind smile.

Aderyn stood up. "Yes, in fact. I'm uh…" Aderyn cleared his throat. "I-I'm looking for a man named Melus Petilius. Do you know him?"

"Of course. No one who lives in the village DOESN'T know of him!" The Altmer's eyes lit up as if he were recalling a childhood hero. "He killed off a horde of goblins when they attacked our village in the early stages of its construction. He'd singlehandedly slain a nest of imposing minotaurs," though a hint of regret filled his voice at the last mention of Melus's feats.

His face then became grave, grave as if death lingered behind every word he was about to speak. And it did. "That's all in the past now," he said in a weary tone.

Aderyn looked shocked. Petilius couldn't be dead already. Molag Bal would've at least known that. The dastardly prince wouldn't really send him on a wild goose chase.

As if to satiate Aderyn's surprise, the mer spoke again. "If you intend to get much from him, don't look forward to it. He does nothing more these days than mourn his recently deceased wife. Since the death of Vena, we've seen neither hide nor hair of the man in our little village. He's gone off by himself." The mer lowered his eyes and released a low sigh.

"What about his wife, Vena?" asked Aderyn, carefully trying to gain as much information about the man, Melus Petilius's past. "What can you tell me about her?"

"She was a good woman. Melus loved her as best as he could." The mer looked directly into Aderyn's eyes. "He blames himself, you know? One day he went off fighting. Vena became terribly ill. A sudden fever – incurable by priests, healers and alchemists alike – and she was gone." He then became quiet and spoke in whispering tones as if something bad would happen if he continued.

"He never forgave himself!" the mer exclaimed. "I don't think he'll ever forgive himself for not being there when she passed. It was then, the very day he stood on his wife's grave, that he vowed to never raise a weapon in hostility again." He sat down on the log with a huff. "Ever since then our village hasn't had the protection that Melus once provided, and raids have only become all too frequent." He finished, apparently weary of the remembrance. He put his head in his hands.

"Can you tell me where he lives?" The mer raised his eyes and gazed curiously at Aderyn.

"Why do you want to know that?" asked the mer.

"To bring light to our darkened friend," Aderyn lied.

"Can you really do it?" the mer spoke in excited tones. "The village would be ever grateful." Aderyn felt a twinge of contempt fill his stomach.

Aderyn nodded, refusing to show his anguish over what he had committed himself to. Could he really condemn a man to another fate? One more terrible than the one he had already let himself slip into?

The mer directed him further southwest, to where Aderyn's target lay in wait. He had to go through with it. He had to free Varulae. Aderyn just had to find a way.

Melus swore to never raise a hand in hostility. Aderyn spat and cursed at Bal. _He knew, that wicked vermin_, thought Aderyn. Yes, Bal knew of Melus's vow. He knew of Melus's loss. _That treacherous, lustful, conniving "prince of torture"_. Of course, Aderyn knew if he didn't then Varulae would be trapped forever in torment by that wicked demon…

"Wait. That's it!" Aderyn shouted, perhaps a little too loud, at the sudden revelation. Aderyn covered his mouth, afraid his thoughts would come bursting out of him. He quickly devised a plan to bring Melus to the edge. And at the perfect moment, he would push the man over that edge and into oblivion.

_A little illusion magic here, a little deception there. It's perfect._ The only problem with the idea, however, scared him. It had come from his mind. But what a devil he must play.


	18. The Push of Redemption

Slinking about in the dark of a cramped house was not an easy feat to accomplish. Especially when a well tended fire blazed in the fire place. And the one whom you are trying to plant seeds of hatred, malice, and a hint of lust for revenge, was staring wide-eyed at the fire. No doubt he would know the one who taunted and jeered at him could be nothing less than flesh and blood. Aderyn had to portray cunning, stealth, and malevolence.

A draft from the rising storm outside stirred the fire as Aderyn snuck in, and he cringed at possibly ruining his plan from the get-go, but Melus took no notice of it. Melus just sat there with his back to the door, the warmth of the fire caressing his face, and held tightly in his hands a note. Aderyn peaked over Melus's shoulder at the note, being careful to make little to no noise. It read, before fading into obscurity:

_My Dear, Sweet Melus,_

_I fear these are my last days here on Nirn. However, take heart, I go to a better place. Although, I fear you will feel fear and reject the idea. Verily, you will blame yourself, just as you had when our daughter had died from that invasion of minotaurs. Encouraged by love, you avenged her, but still blamed yourself. Forever remember how you overcame the grief. Always you persevered. Laughter helped. Laughter helped you fight to remember the good times. Everlasting love, as well. Now remember. I'm sorry…_

Aderyn hissed threw his teeth. How could he go through with this? Fear and shame both entered his heart, creating a bitter struggle between right and wrong. But which was which? Was breaking a man out of his remorse just to free another soul considered good? But something in the letter caught his eye. A little encouragement sprang into thought as to how he should toy with Melus's mind.

"Who's there?" Melus voice inquired in the dark, a weary regret clinging to his every word. "Go away!" he shouted. He then whispered as tears formed in his eyes, "leave me alone to wallow in my own misery." He waved his hands and centered himself back in front of the dancing flames.

Eager to complete his mission before any further guilt tried to beguile him out of it, Aderyn set about putting his plan into motion.

"Melus," Aderyn hissed, altering his voice to try and match that of Bal's. It actually sounded pretty close considering. But to add effect, Aderyn cast several spells to enhance the sound of his voice in the room. To make it sound distant but internal.

Melus barely even lifted his head, but Aderyn knew he had the attention of the man by the wary look in his eyes. Melus lifted his hands to block his ears. Aderyn forced Melus's hands down by use of telekinesis, trying to get Melus into thinking he was being bewitched by the power of his voice. He spoke all the while as he did this.

"Melus… poor Melus. He has no where left to run, does he?"

"Who's there? What do you want from me?" Melus growled. His eyes became wider, and Aderyn toyed with the flames by manipulating the element. He formed figures dancing in them – figures of a man and a woman dancing. Melus watched, transfixed on the burning forms.

"What do you see?" asked Aderyn in a low voice, influencing Melus to see what he most desired. The flames danced and danced, and then stopped altogether, frozen in place.

"Vena…" whimpered Melus.

"Yes. Vena." Aderyn resumed the flames, but made the woman flee from the man she danced with and ran to another. "Why is it, do you think, she became ill? You were away and she was taken advantage of."

"Stop it!" cried Melus. He tried to close his eyes.

Aderyn intensified the heat of the flames and crept dangerously close to Melus's ear, and began to whisper and instigate scorn. "She left you because you were away. She left you because she was alone. You left her, Melus. You left and she could handle it no longer. She longed to be loved. You never gave that to her. You never could." The woman figure fell into the embrace of the other male figure, and Aderyn brought the face out clearly, using the ugly mug of none other than Bal himself. Aderyn made the face sneer and tightened the figures arms around the woman.

"No! Please, no!" screamed Melus. "She couldn't. She wouldn't. She loved me!" Melus began to pull at his hair, tears streamed down his cheeks. He was losing control. Aderyn really did feel bad for the man. But he had to continue.

"Yes, Melus," he said, "yes she could. She did. You left her all alone."

"No…"

Now came to put into play the perfect wording from the letter. "Recall back to the letter your wife wrote if you don't believe. Recite the first letter of ever sentence. It all ends with I'm sorry." Aderyn almost could have chuckled. This had all come too easy.

Melus hesitated, picking up the letter. He slowly began. "I – H – A – V – E…" Melus froze. "I have," he whispered and pressed past the lump in his throat. He gulped aloud. "F – A – L" Melus's hands began to shake.

"Finish, Melus. Finish and you will see."

"L – E –N" The beaten mad slouched back in his seat, tears flowing freely down his eyes.

"Yes," hissed Aderyn. The man was broken. "'I have fallen'. And she ends it so daintily with an 'I'm sorry'. Isn't that nice?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Melus put his head back into his hands, pulling hard at his hair. "Leave me alone!" he screamed. "Leave me alone! No!"

Aderyn silently exited the house, the first part of his mission completed. Now just for the last part. Aderyn would place the mace at Vena's grave site. He knew Melus would visit her one last time. He saw the betrayal in his eyes. But all the while he felt as if something were out of place. He pushed the knot in his stomach away. _It's just the mortal part of you, Aderyn. The flesh, conquer it._

Aderyn heard Melus screaming at the top of his lungs for the voice to go away. He'd apparently succeeded and more. He'd driven the man mad. The door slammed shut behind Melus and Aderyn figured he had only a few minutes now. Casting a chameleon spell, Aderyn followed Melus, and soon found himself standing beside Melus at Vena's grave site.

Melus knelt down, tears staining his cheeks red. The thunder over head clapped, booming and lighting up the whole area. And in that split second, Aderyn placed the mace down in front of Melus. Melus's eyes widened with fear and hate. And he glimpsed Aderyn's shimmering form in the flash of another lightning burst.

"You! You demon! Who are you!?" His hand clamped around the mace, a murderous gaze filling his wild eyes. Aderyn felt a tinge of fear pang in his stomach. He prayed to the Nine that Bal would keep his word. "You will die demon!" yelled Melus.

Aderyn yelled out, feeling a presence taking over his lips. He couldn't tell exactly what it was. Perhaps the Nine wanted Melus to know. But he found himself yelling, "The Nine will forgive you!"

The last thing Aderyn remembered feeling was nothing. He saw Melus swing, but no pain came. It was instant death. A blow to the head and Aderyn crumpled to the ground, laying motionless as the rain fell, drenching Aderyn and Melus. Melus, however, stood over his kill, panting. But he realized what he had done.

And he wept at the fact that he committed the one act he promised never to partake in.


End file.
